


Next Stop

by ShahOfBlah



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahOfBlah/pseuds/ShahOfBlah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where slavery is legal, Blaine was sold at a young age.  He didn't have an easy time of it, until someone finally took notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that I wrote up the other day. I'm definitely going to continue and I've got a lot of ideas for it, but I just don't have the time to write it all now. I'm just publishing it so I can gauge the response to it (and because I haven't written anything in a while)  
> Obviously, this is very AU, but it still maintains some canon elements. This is also not a sexual slavery situation. The only sort of intercourse between slaves and masters would be akin to the sort that happened with slavery in America - aka not something that the slaves are purchased for.

Wesley Montgomery’s father is not a bad man.  The whole rest of the world might view him as such, but Wes knows that it’s just not true.

He knows the details of the crime his father committed, the crime which earned him a lifetime in jail.  He’s seen the pictures and heard the stories with every gory detail included.

But he still knows his father is a good man.  Oh, and he’s certainly guilty.

Because the crime that Wes’ father committed was no worse than the crimes the men he murdered in cold blood committed on a daily basis.  But those men were hurting people who didn’t count.

Wes’ father was one of the few who believed in slave rights.  He was one of the few that believed in equal treatment and paying wages.  He was vehemently against punishment of any sort, especially physical punishment.  So when he overheard two men talking - no, bragging - about how they had beaten a “useless slave until it wasn’t even moving,” he’d gotten understandably angry.  And he’d killed those men because there was no other way for justice to come to that poor human who had died for no reason at all.

The crime made national - and probably international - news.  Wes, his mother, and their slave, Abigail, had to move to escape the reporters that camped out in their front lawn every day.  And a few years later, she met Steven Jacobs.

Wes had disliked the man from the start, but he saw how he changed his mother.  She had been so sad and lost ever since his father had been arrested.  But Steven turned her back into her old self.

Not six months later, Steve and his slave, Barry, moved in.

Wes and Steve held each other in mutual dislike.  So Wes asked to board at Dalton, a local private school that was one of the best in the country.  Not only that, but it was also close to the prison where his father now lived.

Wes was now only home for a few weeks total out of the whole year, spending the rest of the time at school or friend’s houses.  He preferred it that way.  Because even though his mom was happy again with Steve, she wasn’t the same.

* * *

Blaine Anderson was not born a slave.  But as a young child, only four years old, he’d been strapped into the backseat of his parents’ car next to his 14-year-old brother, Cooper, for a weekend vacation.

The trip had ended all too soon when a drunk driver came tearing down the wrong side of the road and collided head-on with their car.  Blaine’s parents were declared dead at the scene.  After being patched up at the hospital, Blaine and Cooper both entered the slavery system.  He hadn’t seen his brother since.

* * *

The first time Wes came home from school, he was shocked to find that a small shack had been erected in the backyard - a slave house for Abigail and Barry.

He was even more shocked to find his mother coldly ordering kind old Ab around the house.  Ab had been with the family since before Wes was born and had become almost like a member of the family.

The biggest shock was when he discovered the whips and chains in the slave house when he went out to talk to Ab one night.  Apparently, Steve was the type who liked to leave physical reminders for his slaves.

How his mother could allow all this to happen after everything his father had fought for baffled Wes.  But then again, perhaps she felt so betrayed that slaves had caused her husband to give up his freedom that she now felt no sympathy for him.

That one act had frozen her heart.

* * *

In the twelve years since the car accident, Blaine had been with seven different owners.  The families he’d served had covered all areas of the spectrum - from the kind ones who just needed an extra hand around the house to the brutal masters who believed that a slave was worth less than a squashed bug beneath their shoes.  He had the layers of scars, both physical and emotional, to show for his years in captivity.  He had felt pain and most certainly fear of his masters before, but he’d never feared for his life.

Well, not until now.

Blaine most recent masters hadn’t been awful.  Sure, they would punish him for wrongdoings, but they generally treated him fairly.  One of Blaine’s main tasks had been helping with the care of their young daughter.  Well, she had managed to catch the flu at school, and she had passed it on to Blaine.  When the boy became so sick that he couldn’t perform his duties, he was returned to the market - because no one wasted their money on healing slaves.

So now he sat crouched and dirty on the cold ground behind the auction stage.  He was wearing a thin pair of shorts and a threadbare undershirt - and, of course, the frozen chains around his ankles and wrists.  Above him, two dealers were talking worriedly.

“The kid’s not going to get any buyers, I mean, look at him!”

They both looked down.  Blaine’s complexion was pallid despite his olive skin tone.  He’s lost any excess weight he might have been carrying when he was sick, and convulsions still overtook his body.

“He’s a good worker, though.  Strong.  Someone might want to take a chance on him.”

“With that many previous owners and disease?  No way.”

“I say we throw him up there and if no one bites, we’ll get rid of him at our next stop, okay?”

“Whatever.  I guess money is money.”

* * *

Steve didn’t actually need a new slave, but his friends trusted his judgement on finding an adequate slave the most, so he went to the slave auctions every time they rolled into town.

He’d already helped two of his friends find new slaves and was about to leave when he heard something unusual.

“Now this slave is a 16 year old male who has been with seven previous owners.  He is fit for both indoor and outdoor labor.  However, he is also ill, so we will set no minimum bid.”

It might be interesting to get the kid.  It’d be cheap, there’d be a little extra help for a while, and then the kid would die.  Easy.

When no other voices rose from the crowd, Steve shouted, “Twenty dollars!”

* * *

Blaine was shocked and relieved when he heard the man’s voice call out.  Sure, it was a pathetic sum - he’s gone for more than ten times that amount before - but it saved him learning what “disposal” consisted of.

He was led into the processing room where all the other slaves kept a wide berth around him.  His body still shivered and was hot with fever, and he was coughing with almost every breath.  None of them wanted to catch whatever he had.

Of course, the flu was easily treatable, but no one ever bothered treating slaves.

Blaine allowed a minute of hope that the man who had purchased him might take the money he had saved to buy medicine for him.  And then he saw his new owner walk into the room.  His eyes were cold and lifeless.  Blaine gulped, knowing that nothing was going to come easily for him.

* * *

The man walked away from the station briskly and Blaine had to fight to keep up.  Not only did he have to pause frequently to catch his breath or cough, but the chains at his ankles, which hadn’t been released, allowed him very little freedom in movement.  

He was loaded into the floor of the backseat of the man’s car, and they set off.

The man didn’t utter one word to Blaine the whole time.

When the car finally stopped moving, Blaine thought nervously about what he might find on the other side of the door.  It finally opened to reveal a modest house with a well-maintained yard and garden.  But that wasn’t where Blaine was being dragged.

Instead, he was taken to a small shed in the back yard.  He knew places like this well.  They were poorly built and had little to no insulation or any basic necessities.  Moments later, the door was unlocked and Blaine was unceremoniously shoved in.

The inside of the slave house was as Blaine expected it.  There were two thin mattress pads on either side of the room and a door at the back, which presumably led to the punishment area.  Both mattress pads looked like they were already taken, so Blaine curled up against the far wall and tried to relax.

* * *

“You bought another one?” Wes’ mother, Marcia, asked her new husband when he walked back into the house.  She was currently sitting in the living room and watching TV.  Ab was cleaning the kitchen while Barry was upstairs, painting the hallway.

“Ah, it’s not going to last.  I just got it for some extra work around here for a while.”

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, still not able to drop her last shred of respect for slaves and refer to one as “it.”

“Got sick.  It can barely hold itself up.  I got it for $20 because the dealers were going to dispose of it otherwise.  The way I see it, I bought the slave an extra few weeks of life.  It’ll work here for a while, and probably die pretty soon.”

Marcia nodded her head.  “Alright dear.  I guess he will be helpful with all the work we’re doing.”

It was true; Barry was almost single-handedly renovating the entire house.  He’d already fixed up the kitchen and living room, and was now working on a few rooms upstairs.  Ab was too old to do much of the physical labor, so she was used for cleaning the messes created by construction.  With the new slave, they’d be able to start the landscaping earlier than expected.


	2. Chapter 2

No one bothered Blaine in the slave house until an old woman walked in much later that night.  She started when she saw the small, frail form curled up on the floor.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, slowly approaching him.

He sat up defensively, chains rattling loudly.

“It’s alright,” she said.  “My name is Abigail.  Barry and I are the other slaves here.  Barry’s just finishing up for the day, so you’ll meet him in a few minutes.”

Blaine nodded.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“B-Blaine,” he said, and was immediately pulled into another fit of coughs.

Abigail winced at the small boy.  It sounded like he was trying to hack up a lung.  “Are you alright there?”

Blaine’s wide, scared eyes held the answer, but she wanted him to admit it himself.  Slowly, Blaine shook his head.

“Let me look at you, sweetheart.  I’ll see what I can do.”

Abigail crouched down next to Blaine and pulled him into her lap.  The boy was absolutely frigid, and wearing almost nothing except those chains.  “I’m sure Master Jacobs will  take those off tomorrow morning,” she said.  The boy nodded and shivered some more.  Poor thing; Abigail could feel his ribs through his shirt.  It was too bad that she’d already eaten, otherwise she would have saved some of the meagre supper she’d been given for this poor kid.  It was obvious that he wasn’t getting fed tonight.

She continued running her hands over his arms to keep him warm, but she let her eyes inspect the rest of his body.  There were definite signs of past abuse scarring almost every visible piece of skin.  She shuddered to think of what the boy’s back looked like.

His hair was matted, and the smell of sweat and a few days without washing stuck to his skin.  “I’d suggest a bath,” Ab said, “but I don’t think cold water would be any help to you right now.  Maybe I can wipe you off with a towel once Barry gets back.”

The boy nodded his head.  “Thank you, miss.”

“Just call me Ab,” she laughed.  “How old are you, honey?”

“S-sixteen,” he stuttered.

“Hmm,” Ab frowned again, but said nothing else.

“I’m - g-going to die here, aren’t I?” he asked weakly.

“What?  No, sweetheart, don’t say that.”

“But it’s - it’s t-true.  Th-they were going to dis-dispose of me if no one b-bought me today,” Blaine stuttered.  Whether it was from cold or fear, Ab didn’t know.  “And M-Master isn’t g-going to heal m-me.  He’s j-just waiting for me to d-die.”

Ab couldn’t find words to disagree with the boy.  It was true.  That was probably why Master Jacobs had purchased him the in first place.  But she wasn’t going to just sit and watch the small, frail, sweet boy die.

“I won’t let that happen,” she whispered just before the boy’s eyes slid closed.

They stayed in that position, Blaine sleeping and shivering on Ab’s lap, until Barry returned to the slave house half an hour later.  He wasn’t as surprised to see the new addition, so he must have been informed of the purchase, but he was surprised to see the boy’s condition.

“Help me move him to my bed?” Ab said quietly.  “Lord knows the poor thing doesn’t weigh a pound, but I can’t lift him up from this position.”

Blaine didn’t even wake or move while he was being carried across the small shed.

“What’s wrong with him, Ab?” Barry asked.  The younger man had grown to regard Abigail as a motherly figure in their time together.

“He’s sick.  I think Master Jacobs only bought him to work him until he dies,” she whispered.

Barry looked scandalized, and his eyes fell on the thin, shivering mess.  “Do you think that’s going to happen?”

Ab hesitated.  “I wish not, but without proper clothes, or time to rest, or warmth, or food, or medicine, he’s not going to get any better.”

* * *

The next morning, Blaine awoke to find himself in the kind woman’s strong, warm embrace.  He’d shifted in fear at first, rousing her slightly, before realising where he was.

“S-sorry,” he whispered when the woman’s eyes opened.

“No worries, honey, it’s almost time to get up anyway,” Ab said, looking to the clock on the wall.

Blaine’s eyes fell to the slowly shifting figure in the other bed, and Abigail traced his gaze.  “That’s Barry.  He’s a real sweetheart.  You’ll probably be working with him today.”

Master Jacobs came by the shed soon and ripped the chains off of Blaine without speaking.  Blaine rubbed the raw skin at his wrists while he watched Ab and Barry bring in the tray with breakfast on it.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Blaine realized there were only two small servings.  He tried to back away and willed his stomach to ignore the intense hunger pains.  Abigail and Barry were here first, they were much older, and they were healthy.  They deserved the food.

“Come on, honey, eat up,” Ab called moments later, surprising Blaine.  With surprise, he walked over to the small table and saw that the two small portions had been split into three even smaller servings.

“It’s fine, you can have it,”  he whispered.

“Nonsense,” Ab said.  “You’ve got to keep your strength up for work today.”

Barry, who Blaine realized was a man of few words, simply pulled out the second chair and indicated that Blaine should sit there.

“Th-thanks,” Blaine whispered, sinking into the seat and taking his first bit of food in well over 24 hours.

* * *

Blaine did not end up working with Barry.  While Barry finished repainting upstairs in the house, Blaine was instructed to start working on the back patio.  It involved lugging large pieces of stone across the large yard and securely placing them into the path that he’d carved out.

Blaine’s already frail body was not ready for such hard work, nor was it ready for the harsh winds that blew through the trees.  But he gritted his teeth and began the work.

Around noon, Ab walked outside and pressed a roll and some cheese into Blaine’s hand furtively.  “Eat up, sweetheart,” she whispered before running back inside.

Blaine realized that he deliberately was not being given any food, as if the family couldn’t be bothered to even try to keep him alive.  With resignation, he slumped down behind the pile of stone and scarfed down his meagre meal.

Blaine felt himself growing weaker and fainter as the day progressed.  Despite the few extra calories the lunch had provided him with, Blaine knew he wasn’t going to make it through the day without a break.  And yet, Master Jacobs had expressly instructed Blaine to work until he was finished - even a moment’s rest would be punished.  So the boy continued to work, energy dwindling and speed reducing with every step.

It happened while Blaine was in view of the kitchen window, which was pure bad luck on his part.  One minute he was lifting a stone, and the next, inky blackness was invading his vision and bursts of light blinded him.  Then he was on the ground.

Abigail saw it all happen from where she was preparing tea in the kitchen and screamed, fearing that the child had already been broken.

Master Jacobs ran outside, and was standing angrily above Blaine the moment he regained consciousness.

Blaine groaned and rubbed his eyes, rolling over to his side and trying to figure out what was happening.  That was when he caught sight of the shiny black boots.  Immediately, Blaine sprung into a kneeling position, head down before his master.

“I-I’m sorry, Sir,” Blaine whispered into the silence.

“What exactly was going on out here?  Did you think it was appropriate to take a nap?”

“N-no, Sir,” Blaine responded, but he didn’t elaborate.  He knew from experience that masters didn’t like excuses.

The man grabbed Blaine by the thin fabric at his neck and pulled him to his feet.  “Come, boy.  Now,” he ordered.

Stumbling, vision still patchy, Blaine followed the man in the direction of the punishment area behind the slave house.

* * *

When Blaine returned to the yard, it was late afternoon.  He hadn’t yet replaced his shirt, not wanting to aggravate the new open wounds on his back that had been caused by the twenty lashes from his new master.  He could still feel small trickles of blood running down his skin, and any healing that started to happen was painfully reopened every time he strained himself and bent down to grab a rock.

When he saw Ab leaving the house to return to the slave house, he was almost finished.  As the woman crossed the yard, she looked sadly at the small, struggling figure, but knew better than to try.  Instead, she waited inside the house with half of the sandwich she’d had with her dinner.

Blaine and Barry finished and headed to the hut at the same time.  Barry had saved his apple for Blaine, so the boy ended up having a reasonable meal.

When he almost fell asleep at the table, Ab decided it was time to take action.

“Not yet, honey,” she said.  “We’ve got to get you cleaned up first.”

Blaine blinked his eyes heavily, but nodded and followed Ab to the hose outside.  She filled one of the buckets with water and then grabbed a soft rag and began to run it over Blaine’s body.  She avoided his back at all costs until it was absolutely necessary.

Blaine winced, but made no noises of pain or protest as Ab cleaned the dried blood and the long cuts.  As soon as she finished, she replaced Blaine’s shirt, even if it wouldn’t do much for the cold the boy had to be feeling.


	3. Chapter 3

Wes didn’t go home on school breaks if he could help it.  Or else, he’d only go home for a day or two.  So when Thanksgiving rolled around, he promised his mother that he would be there for dinner on Thursday and then immediately return to school.

When he pulled up in front of his house around noon on Thanksgiving, he was surprised to find that there was an unfamiliar slave working in the front yard.  Last he’d checked, his mother had said that two slaves were enough.

Ignoring the uneasy feeling he got every time he saw a slave working when he was doing nothing productive, Wes started walking up the front walk.  But as he got closer to the slave, he began to notice more about him.  First off, the slave couldn’t be older than Wes - he looked like a baby.  Second, he was emaciated and barely clothed.  Thirdly, he was shivering and looked like he could barely keep himself up.

“Hi,” Wes said, causing the boy’s head to jerk up in surprise and he dropped the large sack of soil he had been carrying.  “Oh, sorry, let me help you with that,” Wes offered, but the boy had already dropped to his knees and grabbed the back.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine, Sir,” the boy whispered.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

“I’m Blaine, sir.”

“And how long have you been working here, Blaine?” Wes asked.

“Just - just a week,” Blaine replied.  His voice trembled almost as much as he did.

“Oh.  Great.  Well, it’s - um - it was really nice to meet you.”

“You, too, Sir.”

Wes couldn’t help but watch the boy walk away with a slight limp, nor did he miss the red stains on the back of the boy’s thin shirt.

“Mom!  Steve!  I’m here!” Wes called when he entered the house.  Instead of walking towards the living room where he knew they would be sitting, he went to join Abigail in the kitchen.

“Ab!” Wes cried, running up to the kindly older woman and hugging her tightly.

“Don’t you dare sneak up on me while I’m cutting carrots, Wesley,” Ab chided jokingly.  “I could have cut you.”

Wes smiled.  “I’ve missed you, Ab.  Has - has Steve been treating you okay?”

Ab shrugged.  “It’s no different from most masters, Wes.  You and your daddy are the special ones.”

Wes nodded knowingly.  “What about that kid out front?  Blaine?  I didn’t know we needed another slave here.”

Ab’s usually kind face turned dark so fast that Wes actually stepped away.  “That poor boy…”

“What’s … wrong with him?”

“He got real sick at his last master’s, so they brought him back to auction.  Your step-daddy bought him dirt cheap to work hard until he dies.”

“Until he dies?” Wes roared.  “That’s completely barbaric!”

“Wes, honey, you need to calm down.”

“I won’t calm down.  I understand mom marrying another man if he makes her happy.  I understand him instituting a few changes around here as long as you are still taken care of.  But this is too much!”

Without another word, Wes stormed out of the kitchen and confronted his mother and Steve in the living room.  “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” Wes shouted at Steve.

“What are you talking about, Wes?” Steve asked calmly.

“You know full well what I’m talking about!  That slave you just bought - that kid who’s probably younger than me!  You’re just working him until he dies?  This is a new low, even for you.”

“Wes!” his mother shouted.  “Don’t speak to your step-father like that!”

“No, it’s fine, Marcia, let the boy speak his mind,” Steve said lightly.  “Now, Wesley, I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but you couldn’t be more wrong.  If I hadn’t bought that slave last week, it would have been disposed of, and I’m sure you know what that means.  By buying him, I have just added more time to his pathetic life.”

“Really?  Because it looks like you’ve beaten and starved and overworked the poor kid!”

“And I don’t see how this is any of your concern!”

The two men were standing facing each other, only inches apart.  Wes was breathing deeply, anger coursing through his body.  “It is my concern when you come into my mother’s house and throw our slave out to the garden like she isn’t worth anything.  It is my concern when you take a dying kid and fucking abuse him in the name of this family!”

“And what would you have me do?  Your father was weak and a coward who fed you lies through your whole childhood.  Lies which I have been trying to reveal to you since I met you.  Slaves aren’t people, they’re slaves!  They’re not your equal, they’re here to do as you wish them to!”

Wes shook his head darkly.  “No.  I refuse to believe that.  And if that’s how you’re going to be, I’m not going to be coming home at all anymore.  And I’m taking the kid with me!”

“Excuse me?”

“I could use a personal slave, and it looks like he could use a meal.  Haven’t you both been saying it’s high time I got my own slave?  Well, here it is.  I want him!”

Wes stomped out of the house and slammed the door, hearing an angry, “Fine!” shouted at his retreating back.  It wasn’t until he heard a whimper that he stopped his fuming.

Across the yard, the slave was kneeling, obviously trying to appear as small as possible.  The ripped bag of soil was next to him, and it looked like he was desperately trying to shove it back in the bag.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Wes walked over.

“Hey,” he said in the softest voice possible.

Blaine started and looked up.  “I apologise for the mess, sir,” he whispered, movements speeding up.  “I can clean this up just now.”

“No, that’s okay,” Wes said, but Blaine ignored him.  “Blaine, please stop.”

It was an order, and Blaine had to obey.

“Sir?” he asked.

“Blaine,” Wes said, crouching down so that he was at the slave boy’s level, “I am so sorry for everything that my ass of a step-father has done to you.  But if you don’t mind, I’d like you to come with me.”

“Please, sir, I don’t understand.  Master said to -”

“He’s not your master anymore, Blaine.”

Blaine’s eyes widened.  “Please don’t dispose of me, sir,” he pleaded.  “I swear I can be better.”

“No, no!” Wes said.  “No, that’s not what I mean.  I’ll never hurt you, Blaine.  You have to believe me.  But I’m taking you away from here.  You’re going to be my -” he hated to say the words “personal slave now.”

“Oh,” Blaine said in a small voice.  “Yes, sir.  I mean, Master.”

“None of that,” Wes said.  “I really hate the idea of owning another person.  Please, just call me Wes.”

Blaine’s eyes widened as he looked into Wes’ face.  “Sir?”

“Wes,” he gently reminded.  “I don’t want to be your master.  I want to be your friend.”

“Yes, Si- Wes.”

Once Wes convinced Blaine to abandon the bag of soil, he then worked on convincing the small slave boy to take his jacket.

“But it’s yours, Ma- Wes.”

“Yes, but I’m offering it to you.  You must be freezing in those clothes.”

Blaine looked down at his dirty rags and then back up at the warm, luxurious jacket Wes was offering.  “I’ll get it dirty,” he whispered.

“It’s washable.”

“But -”

“Nope.  Just take it.”

“I -”

“Blaine, do I have to order you to take my jacket?”

The boy’s eyes widened and he reached out a hand for the jacket.  Wes didn’t miss the way the boy’s eyes shone with awe as he ran his fingers over the soft, warm fabric.

“Now, let’s go.”

“Aren’t you staying for dinner, sir?”

“Nope, I can’t stand my step-father.  You and I are going to have our own feast.”

“You and I?”

“Well, you look like you haven’t had a proper meal in weeks and I hate eating alone, so unless you have any objections to that, yes, you and I, Blaine.”

The faintest ghost of a smile crossed Blaine’s face when he walked over to Wes’ car.

* * *

Most restaurants were closed on Thanksgiving, which was probably for the best.  Wes could imagine very few that would allow a slave in, especially one as dirty as Blaine.  Instead, they ordered practically half of the McDonald’s menu and drove back to Dalton in a car that smelled of heaven and clogged arteries.

“I can carry those for you, Wes,” Blaine offered when they parked at the school.

“No, Blaine, just relax for now, okay?”

Blaine bit his lip nervously.  

“Fine, we’ll split them.”

After putting down the bags in Wes’ room, Wes took Blaine to the bathroom to wash the dirt off before eating.

“You can shower after we eat, but I figured you’d be hungry now.  God knows I am,” Wes explained.

Blaine’s face brightened at the mention of a shower.

Throughout the meal, Wes had to force Blaine to eat, constantly explaining that the food was for both of them.

“Blaine, if I’d wanted it, I’d have eaten it,” Wes said at one point, growing exasperated.  “Now eat the damn burger.”

He almost missed Blaine’s flinch and the flash of terror that crossed the boy’s face.

“Shit, Blaine, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it like that,” Wes said quickly.  “I just meant - you allowed to eat whatever you want and do whatever you want here, okay?”

Blaine nodded and took a large bite of the burger that was sitting limply in his hands.  He finished the burger and had a few fries and a milkshake before stopping.  “Thank you, Wes,” Blaine said.  “I think that’s the best food I’ve ever eaten!”

Wes just shook his head.  “If you think McDonald’s was good, I can’t wait to introduce you to some real food.”

Blaine looked a little surprised that he would be getting more food in the future.  Wes tried to ignore the pain the feeling caused him as he stood up and gathered a towel and some extra clothes.  “Want to take a shower now?  There’s soap and shampoo and stuff in the bathrooms and you can borrow my clothes until I go out and buy you some.”

“That - that’s not necessary,” Blaine said.  “These are just fine.”

Both Blaine and Wes knew that wasn’t true, but after so many years in enslavement, Blaine had learned to expect nothing.

“Blaine, those look like they’re about to fall apart any minute.  Plus, it’s almost winter; you need to stay warm.”

Blaine nodded and coughed a bit, and Wes was reminded of the slave’s illness.

“Let me take you to the shower.”

While Blaine was showering, Wes called Dalton’s health center.  As expected, the office was closed.  He knew that going to a hospital would be ungodly expensive, but hopefully when the health center reopened after break, they would consent to treating a slave.  Until then, Wes had to make do on his own.  He put a pot of water on the stove in the kitchen and pulled out a half-empty bag of cough drops from his desk.  Just as he began to search the kitchen for cough syrup or anything else that might work, he heard the bathroom door open.

Wes ran back to his room and collected the clothes and towel from Blaine.  Then, with a kind smile, he led Blaine over to the kitchen.

“There’s a bag of cough drops on the table,” Wes called over his shoulder to Blaine while he began to prepare the tea.  “Take one whenever your throat feels sore or if you’re coughing a lot.”

Blaine nodded and pulled the bag closer to himself.

“Do you like sugar or honey or cream or anything in your tea?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said quietly.

“Okay, ummm…”

“I’ve never had it before,” Blaine said, offering up the first piece of information on his own.

“Right.  Yeah, I guess I should have figured.  I guess I’ll do sugar then?  It’ll be more like juice and a lot of people can’t start off with plain tea right away; it’s too bitter.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Wes said when he was seated across from Blaine.  “Um, I guess I should tell you about myself?  That asshole you met is my step-father.  He married my mother about a year ago, and I’ve avoided them both since.  My real dad is in prison.”

Blaine’s eyes widened, as if in fear that his new master was going to be even worse than his previous one.

“He killed a couple of guys who beat a slave until he was almost dead.”  Blaine looked up at Wes with a sharp intake of breath.  “My dad taught me to treat slaves like equals, like friends.  And that’s how I’m going to treat you, okay?  If I had it my way, there wouldn’t be slavery, but it exists and there are some people out there who are as bad or worse than Steve.

“Anyway, obviously this is where I live.  It’s a boarding school for a bunch of rich kids.  But most of the guys here are pretty decent - especially the ones I hang out with.  They might not be as liberal in their beliefs about slavery, but no one treats slaves badly here.  I think there are a couple of other guys who have personal slaves, too, so you can hang out with them while we’re in class.”

Blaine was nodding along seriously and studying his tea.

“Are you okay, Blaine?  You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I’m fine, Wes,” Blaine said.  “I just - I’ve never met a master like you before.”

“Blaine, I swear, soon I’ll get you to realize that I’m not your master - I’m your friend.”


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine took the extra bed in Wes’ room that usually belonged to his roommate, David.  It took a lot of persuasion of Wes’ part to get the tired slave in there, but once his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

Wes went back to the kitchen to make a call.

“Hey man, how was Thanksgiving with the family?” David greeted when he answered the phone.

“I didn’t stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I shouted at Steve and then I left.  And … I might have brought a slave with me.”

“Wes!  Are you insane?  You know you can’t bring a slave to live at Dalton without permission from the dean.”

“I know, I know, David.  It’s just - this kid.  I couldn’t leave him there.  He’s so young and he looks like those starving kids in Africa, you know?  All skin and bones.  And Steve was just letting him work until he died because he was sick and cheap.”

“He what?” David asked angrily.  Like most other Dalton students, David had grown up in a home with slaves.  However, his family, like most others, treated their slaves with respect - even if they were second-class.

“I know.  He said that he was ‘doing it a favor’ by buying him - because otherwise he’d have been disposed of.  I couldn’t just leave him there with Steve!  I mean, Ab said she’d been trying to care for him, but you know how Steve can be.”

David did know.  He had come back with Wes one time, in an attempt to make one of Wes’ journeys home more bearable, and had witnessed Steve brutally reprimanding Barry.

“When are you coming back to school?” Wes asked.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on coming back until Sunday night, but I can come earlier if you need help.”

“Can you?  Oh, and can you bring some cold medicine or something?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Wes printed the “Slaves on Campus Approval” forms the next day and began filling it out.  Soon, however, the information was beyond his knowledge.  He didn’t want to call home, so he decided to ask Blaine.

As much as he hated to do it, Wes woke Blaine from his nap and called him over to the desk.

“Do you know your ID number?”

“206198630”

“Okay, and how many houses have you served in?”

“Eight, including Master Jacobs.  Nine, if you count as a different master.”

“Do you have any recurring medical conditions?”  Wes hated prying so deeply into Blaine’s personal life, but Blaine shook his head.  He seemed much more at ease with the questioning, probably because he was used to a lack of privacy.

“How long have you been in slavery?”

“Twelve years, Wes.”

“How old are you now?” Wes was a bit shocked by the high number, but pleased that Blaine had at least some freedom in his life.

“Sixteen.”

Wes asked a few more questions before finishing up.

“Want to get a tour of the campus?” he asked.

Blaine nodded and stood patiently while Wes stapled the forms and pulled on a coat.  He was almost at the door when he paused.  “Oh!  I’m sorry, I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what?” Blaine asked tentatively.

“What size shoe do you wear, Blaine?”

Blaine looked perplexed.  “I - I don’t know.  I just wore whatever was issued to me if my master deemed it appropriate -”

“Well, it looks like your feet are a bit smaller than mine, so these will have to do.”  Wes tossed an old pair of sneakers at Blaine.

“Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“What are these?”

“Those are your shoes, Blaine.  It’s freezing out there and I’m not going to have you walk around barefoot.  Do you want socks, too?”

Blaine gaped open-mouthed at the older boy.  Oblivious, Wes tossed a balled-up pair of socks over his shoulder.

“I have an extra coat here, too.  I usually try not to wear it because it’s kinda hideous, but it is warm, and there’s no one to see you.”

Blaine was still frozen in shock when Wes turned back.  “What’s up?” Wes asked, concerned.

“This is all for me?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Blaine, just take the shoes and the socks and the coat.  I’ve already told you that I’m not going to treat you like a slave more than I have to, and that’s a promise I plan to keep.”

There was another moment’s hesitation before Blaine plopped on the ground and began lacing up the trainers that were placed in front of him.  Once he was all bundled up, he followed Wes out.

“Now, this is my dorm building.  There’s another that looks exactly the same, but is on the opposite side of campus, and that’s for the underclassmen.  Right over there is the cafeteria.  Not the best food in the world, but it’s better than public school food.  That’s the gym - we have a pool and indoor track in there, too.  And this,” he said, sweeping his hand to indicate the enormous red brick building in front of him, “is the main administrative building.  Almost all classes are held in here, as well as the offices.”

They walked down a silent corridor and entered the office space.  It appeared empty, but there was a light bleeding out from one of the doors.

“This is the deans’ office.  We have three - academic, disciplinary, and student affairs.  The student affairs dean is Mrs. Rutledge.  She’s awesome, but works way too hard.  Which is good for us.”

Wes knocked timidly on the door.

“Come in!”

“Hey Dean R!” Wes called when he opened the door.  Despite the formal air of the rest of the building, the dean’s office was refreshingly relaxed.

“Wes!  Good to see you!” she said.  Catching sight of Blaine, she raised her eyebrows.  “And this is…?”

“The reason I came to see you.  This is Blaine.  He was a slave for my step-father until I intervened.  I know that these requests usually take time to process, but is it possible to speed up the personal slave approval process just this once so Blaine can stay here with me?”

Mrs. Rutledge’s face softened as soon as Wes had made mention of Blaine working for Steve.  As the Student Affairs Dean, she had heard all about the reason Wes requested to stay at school for most breaks.

“I’ll see what I can do.  The approval process still will take about two weeks, so he won’t be able to move into the slave quarters until then.  If, however, he happens to stay on campus without the knowledge of the staff or faculty…” she hinted.

Wes grinned.  “You’re the best, Dean R!”  He handed over the forms and led Blaine out of the room.  “Come on, Blaine, I can show you the slave quarters if you want.”

They walked for a few minutes outside before coming to a small one-story brick building.  “Unfortunately, since you are a slave, you have to stay here with the other personal slaves.  I hear it’s not too bad - I mean, you guys get the same food as us, and I think there are even lessons during the day if you want them.”

Blaine looked shocked.  “Really?”

Wes wasn’t sure which part surprised Blaine the most - a sick part of him knew it was everything - food, bed, and learning.

David was waiting for them when they returned to the dorm.  Just like Wes, he was shocked by the boy’s appearance and drawn in by his gentle nature.

They quickly administered the cough medicine to Blaine and then all three boys set up in the common room to watch a movie and eat junk food.

While Wes and David gorged themselves on the snacks, Blaine sat off to the side.  He was completely entranced by the images on the screen, and Wes realized that Blaine probably hadn’t had much time to watch TV before.

The movie was over by 5 o’clock, so the boys called for pizza delivery.  Blaine practically fell asleep in the middle of the first slice, which was when Wes realized the problem - where would three people sleep in a two-person room?

“One step ahead of you,” David said.  “It’s not the most comfortable, but I brought one of the air mattresses my family used when we used to go camping.  We can just throw a couple of sheets on there and it’ll be a good enough bed.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said.  “You didn’t have to, though.  I’ve slept on the floor before.”

* * *

The next morning, Blaine awoke a while after Wes and David.  Both boys were quietly working on homework from their desks, waiting for signs of life from the slave.

“Are you hungry, Blaine?” Wes asked when he noticed the movement.  “David and I left out a few bagels in the kitchen.  Help yourself.”

Blaine came back several minutes later and stood nervously in the doorway.  After a few minutes of teetering on the edge, he finally opened his mouth.  “May I take another shower, Wes?” he asked tentatively.

“Oh!” Wes said.  “Of course, you don’t need to ask, Blaine.  Here’s your towel from last time.”

“Thank you, Wes.”

After the boy left the room, David raised his eyebrow at his friend.  “You know, Wes, for some reason it sounds a lot like ‘master’ when he says your name.”

“I know,” Wes said, rolling his eyes but adopting a sad expression.  “He doesn’t seem convinced that I actually want to be his friend.  I even told him about my dad.”

“If he’s been a slave for 12 years, it’s going to take more than a night to change that.  And I’m sure that meeting the other personal slaves here will really help him.”

Blaine came back to the room a few minutes later, wearing the towel around his waist and carrying the small bundle of clothes.

“Am I allowed to keep wearing these?” he asked timidly.

“No, let me get you some clean stuff,” Wes said.

Blaine turned to follow Wes across the room.  As soon as his back was to David, the other boy gasped in shock.

“What?” Wes asked, worried something was wrong with the slave.  He was surprised when it was his roommate who was freaking out.

“What happened to your back?” David practically demanded.

Blaine’s face grew red, and he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.  “I - I took a break while working without master’s permission.  I deserved to be punished,” he whispered pitifully.

“That’s not punishment, Blaine, that’s just - that’s evil!” David exclaimed.  

Wes finally made his way to the other side of the room and examined his slave’s back.  There were several long gashes in his back that appeared to be oozing something.  Underneath those cuts were years and years of scars.  In fact, as Wes observed the slave’s entire torso, most of the skin was marred by cuts of some sort.

“Blaine, why didn’t you tell me?  These could be infected.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Blaine whispered.  He sounded terrified and close to tears.

“David, would you grab the first aid kit from the kitchen?  I’m sure there’s gauze or antiseptic or something in there.  Blaine, why don’t you put on pants and then lie on your stomach so I can take care of this.”

Everyone set into motion as soon as Wes was finished speaking.  He himself went to the bathroom to get a washcloth damp with warm water and a bit of soap.

He gently cleaned Blaine’s cuts, trying to do whatever he could to avoid the slave’s winces and hisses of pain.  Then he applied the antiseptic cream, followed by gauze and medical tape to hold it down.

“I’m sure the nurse will do a much better job with that when she comes back on Monday and we take you in about your cold, but I think that should do for now.”

Blaine smiled, really smiled.  “Thank you,” he said.  “It feels much better now.”

It pained Wes to think that the boy had been lying in pain for so long without saying a word.


	5. Chapter 5

When school started up again, it was a lot harder to keep Blaine’s presence a secret.  As members of the Warbler council, Wes and David’s room was a popular destination for any and all Warblers who needed advice or wanted to practice.

Instead, they told a few of their closest friends who helped to run damage control.  Jeff, Nick, and Thad were able to keep most Warblers away from the room during the day, and had even provided an honour guard around Wes and Blaine when they walked to the nurse Monday afternoon.

Thankfully, the nurse had a soft spot for Wes, or else he wouldn’t have been able to take Blaine in to see her until he was approved.  Blaine was prescribed medicine for the virus that had been attacking his body, and given a stronger antiseptic for his back.

* * *

About a week into Blaine’s stay at Dalton, and Wes and his friends were all piled into the small dorm room for a movie night.  Blaine had separated himself from the group despite all their best efforts to include the healing slave.

Blaine’s condition was also rapidly improving.  Although he still wasn’t eating normal-sized meals, his appetite had increased as his health improved.  The welts on his back, while still a bit gruesome to look at, had begun to scab over.  Wes was sure that it would be fully healed within a month.

Blaine, however, was not adapting as well as his body was.  He still asked permission before doing anything, looked dubious when Wes told him that he could do anything he wanted, spoke Wes’ name like it was a title, flinched away from any sudden movements, and often cowered as if he was expecting a punishment.

David’s words constantly rang in Wes’ ears, but he just wished that the boy could heal more quickly.

About halfway through the movie, there was a timid knock on Wes and David’s door.  Wes’ eyes flew to Blaine while David headed toward the door.  As unnatural as it looked, Wes positioned himself so that he was blocking Blaine from the direct line of sight of anyone standing in the hallway.  Then David opened the door.

It was Kurt.  Kurt was a recent transfer to Dalton; he’d been having trouble at his public school and managed to get one of Dalton’s full scholarships.  He was also in the Warblers with the boys and Jeff’s roommate.  However, neither Wes nor David was particularly close with the junior, and didn’t know what his views on slavery were.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Kurt said apologetically, “but I think I left my key in the room again.  Can you unlock it Jeff?”

The blonde boy bounded over to the door.  In the shuffling of people, Wes shifted, and Kurt’s eyes landed on Blaine.

Blaine was scrunched up, trying to look as small as possible in a corner of the bed.  His head was bowed down, but his wide, fearful eyes were up and trained on the door.

As soon as Kurt caught sight of those eyes, his breath caught in his throat.

“Who…?”

Jeff and Wes practically dragged Kurt into the hallway and slammed the door.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Kurt demanded, prying their hands off of his shoulders.

Jeff looked at his roommate searchingly for a moment before declaring, “He’s cool, Wes.  I trust him.”

“Are you guys doing something illegal in there?  Because I’d rather not be implicated in any part of that - I can’t lose my scholarship.”

“No, no, it’s perfectly legal, it’s just sensitive.  And secret for another week.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, let me start from the beginning,” Wes sighed.  “Kurt, how do you feel about slavery?”

Kurt was a bit taken aback by the question but answered nonetheless.  “Um, well, it’s not exactly my favorite thing.  I guess it’s okay when people treat their slaves like people.  But I don’t really know much about it, I mean Lima doesn’t exactly have many people wealthy enough to afford slaves.”

“Okay.  Okay.  So, I’m not a fan of slavery.  I mean, my dad’s in jail for killing some guys who practically murdered an innocent slave, and he passed the same values on to me.  But my step-father … well, he’s kind of a prick.  And he wholeheartedly believes that slaves are below the rest of us and don’t deserve to be treated the same way.  And then when I went home for break, well … I found Blaine.  He was a new slave that Steve bought, and Steve was just waiting for him to die, so I kinda took him.  As my personal slave.  But he’s not exactly approved to live here yet, so we have to keep it quiet.  And I also don’t want people to treat him like a slave, so I’m limiting contact.”

Kurt nodded.  “So that kid in there.  The scared one.  That was Blaine?”

“Yeah.  I guess, since you know now, you could come in.  But don’t scare him or anything, okay?  He doesn’t really like to open up.”

“Sure,” Kurt said, surprised at the invitation.  He and Wes had never really hung out before, even if they were in the same group of friends.  “But I still do need to get into the room, Jeff.”

“Oh, right!” Jeff exclaimed.  “Here’s the key.  Their door’s unlocked, so just let yourself in when you’re ready.”

Kurt returned a few minutes later and took the only available seat in the room - perched on the edge of Wes’ bed, where Blaine was cowering.  He didn’t let the slave’s reluctance deter him, however.  Instead, Kurt held out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine shook it nervously, but said nothing.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Blaine,” Kurt said, undeterred.  Most of the boys were consumed by the movie, but Wes was watching Kurt carefully.  “How are you liking Dalton so far?”

Blaine shrugged.

“I get it, it can be really overwhelming,” Kurt said with a small laugh.  “I just transferred here about a month ago.  I came from this horrible public school in a completely awful, homophobic town, so I definitely felt out of place here.  Especially since this is quite a few steps above my tax bracket.  So I get that you might feel a bit uncomfortable here at first.  But Dalton is really great, and Wes is definitely one of the best guys here.  He’s actually part of the reason I transferred.”

This part of the story was new to Wes as well, so he listened in.  Blaine, from his position on the bed, lifted his eyes to Kurt’s face and uncurled his body a bit.

“I came here to spy on the Warblers for my old glee club.  Wes and David caught me, and they just sat down to talk to me instead of throwing me out or reporting me.  The fact that two guys caught me spying and bought me a coffee and treated me like a person instead of beating me up...I knew Dalton had to be a good place.”

Blaine cracked a slight smile at that.

Kurt was encouraged by the small steps the slave had taken.  Searching around for a topic, his eyes fell on the mess of curls on the boy’s head.

“Now, I’m going to guess that you haven’t properly treated your hair in a while,” Kurt said in the kindest way possible.  “If not obvious by my glowing and healthy hair, I’m pretty good at cutting and styling - and I’d love to try to work my magic on curls some time.  Mind if I pamper you some time?”

Blaine’s eyes widened at the idea.  This boy - a free person - was offering to take care of him?  “That - That’s not necessary, sir,” Blaine whispered.  “You don’t need to care for me.”

Kurt’s face almost cracked at how much he was grinning.  “First of all, it’s Kurt, not sir.  Believe me, I am closer in status to you than to those guys who can afford to own slaves.  Secondly, I love giving makeovers.  And since Dalton is all boys, I haven’t had any willing subjects in ages, so you’d really be doing me a favor.”

Blaine reached up a trembling hand and pulled at one of his curls.  Thinking deeply, he whispered, “I guess.  If it’s alright with Wes.”

“I will do whatever it takes to convince Wes to let me play with those curls - they have way too much potential.”

* * *

When the movie ended and the boys had all begun to leave Wes and David’s room, Wes quickly pulled Kurt to the side.

“I don’t know what to say, Kurt, but thank you,” Wes said fervently.  “I mean, he barely talks to anyone and then you just - I’ve never seen him look so comfortable and relaxed, except when he’s asleep.”

“It was easy,” Kurt said.  “I meant what I said about understanding how he must feel here.  Even though I’m not a slave, I definitely don’t fit into the same class as all of you.  Plus, it helps that he’s absolutely adorable.”

Wes rolled his eyes at Kurt.  “Whatever.  Just, thanks.  And please, come by whenever.”

“You may regret that offer soon.  I plan to get Blaine talking.”


	6. Chapter 6

A week later, David got a letter from the school officially giving him permission to bring his slave with him.  The slave, by extension, also got to stay for the extended holiday times that David lived on campus.  Since Blaine’s health had also greatly improved, he decided to take the boy out to buy some clothes.  When he proposed the idea to David and Kurt (who he had grown much closer to after Kurt’s progress with Blaine), Kurt pursed his lips.

“What?” Wes asked.

“I’m not at all opposed to you getting him out of those awful sweatpants, but can I please do something about his hair first?  I mean, I’m sure it’s absolutely beautiful hair, but right now it looks like a bird’s nest.”

Wes only laughed.  “Be my guest.”

And that’s how Blaine ended up locked in the Dalton upperclassman dorm bathroom with Kurt on Saturday morning.

He was in one of the comfortable desk chairs with his head in a sink.  The sensation of the warm water and Kurt gently running his fingers through his hair had lulled Blaine into a dreamy headspace.  It took a few moments of prodding for him to realise Kurt had been speaking to him.

“I’m sorry, Kurt, I wasn’t paying attention.  What did you say?”

“Would you mind if I cut your hair a little, too?  Don’t worry, it’ll look basically the same, I just want to get rid of the split ends.”

Blaine nodded his consent and made sure to not slip away while Kurt was working on him.

When the job was done, Blaine did have to admit that his hair looked much better than usual.

“Thank you, Kurt,” he whispered.

“Believe me, the pleasure was all mine,” Kurt replied.  “And now we get to go shopping!  I can’t wait to see what you look like in real clothes!”

Blaine was more than a little perplexed by how everyone had been treating him in the past few weeks, but he knew better than to question the choices of a master.

That became quite difficult as he was dragged into store after store and forced to try on countless outfits.  At one point, Blaine had tried to explain that he didn’t deserve what the three boys were doing for him.

“Why not?” Kurt demanded, as he had been mostly in control of choosing clothes for Blaine.

“I’m not worth it,”  Blaine whispered to the ground.  “This shirt alone is worth more than I am.”

“That’s not true, Blaine,” Wes said, stepping in.  “You’re a human being.”

“No, Wes,” Blaine said, desperately trying to get them to understand.  “You’re wasting your money by buying me these clothes - they are worth more than I am.”

A dark expression crossed Wes and David’s faces.  “How - how much did my step-father buy you for, Blaine?” Wes asked.  It was the first time he’d brought that up since filling out the forms for Blaine, but it seemed necessary to talk about.

“Twenty dollars,” Blaine whispered to the ground.

“What?” all three boys roared in indignation.

“A damaged slave is worth nothing.”

“Blaine, stop it, you can’t believe that,” Kurt pleaded.

“Seriously, Blaine, you are worth so much more than you think.  And you deserve all of this after the way he treated you,” Wes added.

Blaine shook his head, unwilling to obey an order from his master, but equally unwilling to be such a burden.  A few tears sprung to his eyes when Kurt got an idea.

“Wait!  What about used clothes?  If we go to a nicer consignment store, the clothes will all be in season and gently used, but a fraction of the cost.  Would that make you more comfortable, Blaine?”

The slave looked up, disbelief written across his face as he nodded.

* * *

Kurt had to admit that once they got Blaine into decent clothes, the slave went from adorable to attractive.  But he knew the laws.  Anyway, Blaine probably wasn’t gay.  But he couldn’t help but notice that Blaine seemed to gravitate towards him all afternoon.  Maybe it was because Kurt was the smallest and therefore least imposing of the three Dalton boys, or perhaps because Kurt wasn’t a slave owner like Wes and David.  Whatever the reason, Blaine was now speaking more openly to Kurt than even to Wes.

Unfortunately, when they returned to Dalton with a few bags of clothes and other supplies for Blaine, the main difference became apparent again.  Instead of walking back to the dorm, Wes, David, and Kurt walked Blaine over to the slave house.  He was welcomed in warmly by the Dalton slave who looked over it, but he still looked mildly panicked when the three had to leave.

* * *

The slave house at Dalton was nice.  Much nicer than any slave house Blaine had ever stayed in before, and almost as nice as the room he’d been given with his first owners - when he had been purchased as a playmate for their young son.

There was a long room in the back with ten twin beds and small nightstands.  It had tall windows on the far wall which let in the cold sunlight.  Diane, the slave who operated the slave house, showed Blaine which bed was his and let him put away the clothes that Wes had bought him.  Then she led him to the common areas and told him about the house.

“The personal slaves of students live there.  The slaves owned by Dalton live on the other side of the house.  You kids are generally responsible for the upkeep of the house since we are working at the school during the day.  There’s also about two hours every day where a few of the teachers from the school come to teach you, if your master allows it.  We have two sitting rooms with games and TVs, a kitchen, a small library, and laundry/cleaning facilities.”

Blaine nodded along to her words in understanding before she took him to the room where the other personal slaves rested.  

Unlike the Dalton-owned slaves who were all adults, the personal slaves were all around the age of their owners - Blaine’s age.

The first thing that Blaine noticed was that they were all well-dressed and well-groomed.  They all looked reasonably happy, and they were chatting candidly.  One of them was reading a book in the corner, a few were sitting around a table and playing monopoly, and the sixth was watching a movie on the large television.

Diane left Blaine in there to flounder on his own until the TV-watching slave seemed to take notice of Blaine.

“Oh, hi, you must be the new slave!  They told us that you got a special expedited application and were moving in early,” the boy said, jumping up.

Even though this was a fellow slave, Blaine still flinched back at the sudden movements, and the boy’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “My name’s Cameron.  My master is Brian Harding.  What about you?”

“I’m B-Blaine,” he whispered.  He thought for a moment before answering.  Wes had asked him not to call him master, and this slave had called his master by his first name as well.  Hopefully it would be okay.  “My master’s Wes.”  Suddenly, Blaine realised that he didn’t even know Wes’ last name.  His old master had been Master Jacobs, but that was Wes’ step-father, and judging from Wes’ intense dislike, he didn’t take the man’s name.  Regardless, Cameron seemed to understand.

“Oh, I think I know Wes.  He lives in the upperclassmen dorm, right?  Second floor?”

Blaine nodded, relaxing a bit.  

When Cameron saw Blaine’s posture droop a bit, he decided it meant it was probably okay to take another step forward.  “Wanna come sit down with me?  I was just trying to decide what to watch.  Otherwise, you could join in on the game over there, I doubt the guys would mind.  Or, I guess you could read a book…”

Blaine shook his head and followed Cameron to the couch.  He’d not been allowed to watch TV in years, so he let Cameron choose.  They settled into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by roars from the table of boys playing monopoly, each of which caused Blaine to jump out of his skin a bit.

Just after noon, the school slaves all returned.  This was apparently a sign that all the boys should stop what they were doing and go into the kitchen.  Blaine followed and his jaw nearly dropped when he saw the feast that had been laid out for them on the large kitchen table.

“Dig in,” Cameron offered, prodding Blaine in the back.  

Blaine only selected small portions for himself and sat self-consciously far back in his seat, hoping to avoid curious eyes and probing questions.  But they came, as expected, all too soon.

The other slaves introduced themselves and began asking questions - who was Blaine’s master, how old was he, easy getting-to-know-you questions.  But then one boy, Simon, who was sitting across the table from Blaine asked with a mouth of food, “So why’d they expedite the application for you?”

Blaine instantly grew uncomfortable and tried to shrink in on himself.  No one came to his aid however, all too curious about the circumstances themselves.

“Wes - he took me from his step-father.  Because I was sick.”  It was an insufficient explanation, Blaine knew, but he wasn’t going to elaborate any more.  A few of the older slaves nodded their heads knowingly, but the other teenagers didn’t understand.  Most of them had probably only belonged to two or three masters in their lifetimes, if that.  Blaine was unusual in that respect as well.

It looked like Simon was getting ready to ask another question, but Diane quickly silenced him.

* * *

After lunch, the Dalton slaves went back to working around the school.  Even though it was the weekend, they still had plenty to do.  The boys meanwhile cleaned the kitchen and packed away the leftover food.

“If you ever get hungry and it’s not mealtime,” Cameron explained, “you can help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.  It’s all for us.”

All these boys seemed so comfortable in this environment that Blaine finally found the courage within himself to ask what had been nagging at him since the moment he’d arrived.  “Is this what it’s like for you when you’re not living at Dalton?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have this much choice in what you do and eat and when you can do it?  Do you not have work to do?”

Cameron looked at Blaine strangely.  “Well, basically.  I mean, there might be a few more rules at the homes, enforced by parents, but personal slaves aren’t really work slaves.”  When Blaine remained silent, Cameron asked, “Have you ever been a personal slave before?”

“Kinda?  When I was young - I was first purchased as a playmate.  But then when the boys grew older, they didn’t need me anymore.”

“How - how many owners have you had?” Cameron asked.  “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Eight.”

“What?  How?”

“I was an unsatisfactory worker,” Blaine said, echoing the words of a previous master who had sold him soon after purchase - when he was only twelve.  “I was a house slave mostly when I was younger, then a work slave.”

Cameron didn’t really know what to say.  He’d always been Brian’s personal slave, just like his parents were Brian’s parents’ personal slaves.  Sure, they all did work around the house and the occasional more demanding labor, but there had never been the distant idea that the arrangement might not be permanent - or in some way harmful.

* * *

Wes wanted to check up on Blaine immediately following dinner, but David and Kurt managed to talk him out of it.

“You need to give him time to adjust to living with other slaves,” David reasoned.

“But what if they scare him or -”

“I hate to break it to you, Wes, but if anyone here is likely to scare him, it’d be us,” Kurt added.  “We are the ones with the power here, while they are his equals.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sunday morning, Wes slipped out of his room early, without a word to David.  He got in his car and drove for a while until he ended up at the facility.  They let him in with familiar nods and smiles, and soon Wes was waiting in the same private room that he always did.  A few minutes later, his father was escorted in by two guards and uncuffed.

“Dad!” he exclaimed, standing up and running to his father.

“Wessy!  Good to see you, son,” he said, hugging his son and letting his relief show.  “How have you been, kid?”  Wes’ father, Andrew Montgomery, was well aware of Steve’s actions and Wes’ dislike for his new step-father.

“I - dad, I have something to tell you,” Wes confessed nervously.

“What?  What did he do, Wes?”

“Dad, calm down!  It’s - I mean, I - I have a slave.”

The room got deathly silent.  “A slave?  Wes, I thought I taught you -”

“No, dad, it’s not like that!  Blaine - he’s - he’s just a kid.  And he was sick, so Steve bought him for $20 and he was abusing the kid … so I told Steve that I wanted him as my personal and I just … I just left.”

Andrew sighed in relief and, oddly, smiled.  “Wes, you have no idea how proud I am of you right now.”

“Dad, I feel like I’m in over my head, though.  This kid, he’s - he’s had it so much worse than I ever imagined and I don’t know what to do.”

Wes went on to explain everything he had learned from Blaine, feeling drained but relaxed once he finally finished talking.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you, Wes,” Andrew said when his son was finished talking.  “Seriously.  I mean, no matter what you choose to do in life, I’ll always love and support you, but this… you’ve done something here than even the most educated and mature men years older than you can’t understand.”

Wes smiled weakly.  “But what am I supposed to do, dad?  I can’t - I can’t do this alone, not even with David and Kurt.  And Blaine - he’s just so hurt.”

“It’s not going to be fast or easy.  You just need to constantly prove to him that you mean what you say.  So don’t ever make any promises you aren’t 100% sure you can keep.  Be his friend, but don’t smother him.  And you might need to give him orders or treat him like a slave at times - he might try to test you - but just remember this, right now, and it’ll be fine.”

“God, I miss you so much, dad,” Wes said.  He usually tried not to get too emotional, tried to not make his father feel guilty about supposedly abandoning his son, but right now, Wes couldn’t be bothered with that.  “Everything’s so much harder with you in here.  Why can’t everyone see the world like you?”

“Soon, Wes.  I know it’s tough, but soon things will get better.”

* * *

Kurt had also gone home on Sunday, a rare occasion when he had completely finished all his homework for Monday before Sunday night.  He’d arranged to meet with Mercedes and Rachel later, but he first wanted some time with his father.

There were very few people in Lima who owned slaves, the few notable exceptions being Sue Sylvester (who treated her slaves incredibly well, oddly), a few business owners, Quinn Fabray’s family, and others who were in the same financial neighborhood as them.  Kurt had met Quinn’s slave on the few occasions that he had been to the Fabray house, a 30-some year old man who mostly did yard work and cleaning while Mrs. Fabray took care of the cooking.  At the time it hadn’t seemed strange, but after living at Dalton, Kurt now knew how odd the arrangement was.

As was common in most business areas, almost every shop in Lima that could afford it had at least one slave working there.  The garage was one of the few places in Lima where no slaves worked, and Kurt hoped that it meant his father shared Wes’ view of slavery.

“Dad!  I’m home!” he called as he walked through the front door.  Carole was the one to rush out of the kitchen and engulf Kurt in a hug.

“Kurt!  Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?  I could have made something special for you!”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Kurt laughed.  “Where’re Finn and my dad?”

“Finn’s off somewhere with the boys, probably playing video games or injuring himself while playing some insane made up ball game.  Your dad is around somewhere…”

“He is very good at hiding when he wants to,” Kurt agreed.  “What are you trying to make him do today?”

“I only suggested that he might want to clean out his shelves in the garage…”

“That’s a hopeless cause, Carole, I’ve been trying to get him to do it for years.”

Kurt really loved Carole.  She couldn’t ever replace his mother, but she was wonderful for his father and one of the sweetest women he’d ever met.  Plus, they could talk about anything and she always seemed to understand him perfectly.  It was probably the mother’s intuition that he’d always heard about and which Burt didn’t quite possess.

“Did I hear my son come in?” Burt asked, announcing his presence at the kitchen door.

“Dad!” Kurt squealed, launching himself into the older man’s arms.  Even though it hadn’t been that long since he’d last been home and he wasn’t ever homesick at Dalton, he was always excited to get to see his dad again.  

The two Hummel men retreated to the living room after a while, Carole leaving to grocery shop and sensing that Kurt wanted privacy (that wonderful mother’s intuition again!).

“Dad, how do you feel about slavery?” Kurt asked carefully.

“How so?”

“Well, at Dalton, there are a ton of slaves who make out food and clean the dorms and stuff, and some of the kids even brought their personals, too.  And so I’ve just been thinking about it a lot.”

“Well, I’ve never been entirely comfortable with it,” Burt replied.  “I understand that it can be useful for running a business if you have workers who don’t get paid and live just to work, but it seems cruel not to give them a choice.”

Kurt nodded along.  “Have you ever heard about people - mistreating their slaves?”

Burt sighed and ran a hand along the side of his face before answering.  “A few years back, there was a pretty big scandal about that.  These two men decided to really let loose on a slave who had simply forgotten one small instruction.  It was a pretty small matter, if I remember correctly.  The slave was nearly dead by the end of the “punishment” and since slaves don’t get proper medical treatment, he died a while later.  This other man had seen it all and went after the two owners, killed ‘em.  Now, I don’t like violence, but I think they got what they deserved.”

Kurt nodded along thoughtfully.  “So it doesn’t happen that often?”

“Not to that degree, no.  But you have to understand, people see slaves as dogs - they have to be punished for misbehaviour.  So some slaves’ll be whipped or beaten for failure, or something like that.  Unfortunately, there’s nothing regulating punishment, there’s no one advocating for slave rights.”

The room grew silent as Kurt thought about everything he had learned about Blaine.

“Now, why all the slavery questioning?”

“My friend Wes, from the Warblers … his step-father bought a sick slave and was working him until he died, so Wes - kinda took him.  I’ve just never seen anyone so broken before, and he’s so young - younger than me!  I don’t understand how people can treat someone else like that.”

Burt sighed.  “Kid, I hate to break this perfect image you’ve got, but this is how the world works.  Most people who own slaves aren’t like that, but there are some who are bad.  It’s unfortunate, but there’s not much we can do about it.”


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine felt uncomfortable in the slave house, but not for the expected reasons.  The other slaves were nothing but warm and welcoming.  There were no threats of violence.  There was always food on his plate and a warm blanket and firm mattress as a bed.  And that was what scared Blaine.  He wasn’t used to such luxury, and he couldn’t help but think it was all some elaborate ploy to punish him.

But Monday morning came, and still Blaine was not punished.

After breakfast, Blaine followed the other boys into the common room.  They had all gathered together their assignments from last week and were waiting for the tutors to come.  Some of the boys were complaining about the work, while Cameron whispered to Blaine to explain the situation.  It was more than unusual for a slave to be given an education.  It was almost unheard of.

“They don’t teach us much.  It’s not nearly as bad as up at the school.  Generally it’s just the two lessons - English and math.  They wanted to teach us history, but the government shot that down.  Said Dalton would lose funding if they did that.  Thought it would put ideas in our heads.”

Blaine shot a quizzical look at the other boy.  Cameron was beginning to realize that Blaine’s past was vastly different from anyone else’s, but he didn’t mention anything just yet.

“All those slave rebellions and abolition movements in the past.  Government doesn’t want us rebelling again, especially now that the economy’s finally beginning to pick up.  If we rebelled and started to demand rights or wages, there would be another huge crash.”

Blaine was slightly amused that Cameron knew all this - and yet didn’t seem to want to rebel.  He was also beyond impressed by the boy’s intelligence.

“How do you know all that?” he asked in a reverential tone.

“Oh, as soon as Brian figured out that I enjoyed reading and history and all that stuff, he started making me help him with his homework.”

Blaine grinned a bit, beginning to learn that the relationship between a master and a slave was not always like the ones he’d grown to expect.

The three tutors walked into the common room a short while later.  While the other slaves broke up into their groups, one woman walked over to Blaine.

“Hi, you must be the new personal.  I’m Dr. Sheraton, one of the tutors here and for the students at Dalton.”  The slaves were taught by the same people as the masters?

“Hi,” Blaine replied shyly.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you to do a couple of assessments today just so we know where to pick up with your schooling, okay?” she said.  “We’ve already cleared everything with Mr. Montgomery.”

Blaine nodded and numbly followed her into the kitchen where he could fill out the assessments in silence.  She stayed at the opposite end of the table from him, presumably grading papers for her other classes.  Blaine, meanwhile, stared at the papers in terror.

He’d never been formally taught spelling or reading or writing or math or anything.  All he knew he had picked up from listening in to conversations.  The page in front of him was filled with words longer and more complex than Blaine could even hope to understand.  He made a few half-hearted attempts at reading passages, but there were multiples words in almost every sentence that he couldn’t figure out.  In frustration, he turned to the math packet, hoping that it might be easier.  Blaine made it through the first page with only slight difficulty and a lot of finger counting.  He knew that Dr. Sheraton was watching him closely, and he could feel an embarrassed flush creeping up his face as he realized what she must thing.  Here he was, a 16 year old who couldn’t do long division or read anything more complex than a child’s book.

After two long hours, Blaine finally gave up.  Dr. Sheraton must have been waiting to hear Blaine’s pencil drop because she was at his side in moments.

“Ready for me to look at those, Blaine?”

He nodded, but didn’t make eye contact.  Blaine didn’t look up the entire time that Dr. Sheraton read over his assessments - which, admittedly, was a very short time since he had been able to do so little.

“Blaine,” Dr. Sheraton said, finally breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, feeling tears pricking at his eyes.  “I’m sorry I wasted your time, I know I’m stupid.”

“Blaine, dear, no,” she said, so softly and kindly that Blaine actually looked up.  “Blaine, have you ever been taught how to read or write?”  Blaine shook his head.  “No schooling at all?”  He shook his head again.  “Well, then this is most definitely impressive.  I admit, it will be harder for you, starting from the basics at your age, but if you’re determined, I am confident that you will excel.”

“Really?” Blaine asked quietly, sniffling slightly.

“Of course.  I can tutor you myself.”

* * *

After classes on Monday, Wes, David, Kurt, and a few of the other boys who had personals at school headed over to the slave house.  When they entered, most of the boys were messing around in the common room.  However, Blaine and another personal were sitting in the kitchen.  Blaine had a thin book open in front of him and a notebook to the side.  The other boy was patiently helping him whenever he became particularly frustrated.

When he briefly looked up, he turned a deep shade of pink.  “Oh, sorry, Ma - Wes,” Blaine said quickly.  “Did you need something?”

Wes ignored the small slip up, just like he had ignored every other time Blaine had called him Master or Sir.  It would be a difficult habit to break.  “No, we just wanted to check on you, make sure you were adjusting to living here,” Wes explained.

David scoffed.  “Because you totally haven’t been living here for the past two weeks.”  The comment earned him an elbow in the ribs from Kurt.

“Anyway, what are you doing right now?” Wes asked.

A bit of a panicked look flitted across Blaine’s face.  “I’m … reading.  Is that alright?”

“Of course,” Wes answered.  “Is this for the tutors?  What do they have you working on?”

Blaine looked down at the small, brightly coloured book in front of him.  “It’s not - I mean, I haven’t …”  He took a deep breath, and lifted the book to show Wes the cover.

He recognized the book faintly from when he was a kid - it was kind of long, but the print was large and none of the words were very complex.  A heavy weight dropped in Wes’ stomach as he realized what that meant, and why Blaine was so flustered.  He was embarrassed that he couldn’t read.  Wes smiled in response, hoping it didn’t look too sad.

“Cameron was helping me,” Blaine admitted quietly.

“That’s great.  I was going to ask if you wanted to come back to my room for a movie night, but if you’re too busy with your homework, that’s fine.”

Blaine nodded and looked between Cameron, his book, and his master.  “Would it be okay if I stayed here?”

“Of course.  I’ll check in again tomorrow, Blaine.  Night!”

Wes almost ran from the building.  “I can’t believe how stupid I was.  Of course he never learned to read - he entered into slavery when he was four and none of his masters were like the people here!” he said in a rush as soon as he, David, and Kurt were outside.

“Whoa, Wes, man, calm down!” David said, placing a hand on his best friend’s arm.  

Wes was still slightly manic, but he did take a breath.  “I just feel so bad for him.  I mean, he was just a kid and he lost his whole family and his freedom.”

“Yeah, but Wes, think about what you’re giving him back,” Kurt reminded the older boy.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Wes and Blaine both fell into new patterns at Dalton.  Blaine stayed at the slave house during the week.  Most of his time was spent working on the lessons Dr. Sheraton left for him.  His reading comprehension was skyrocketing, as were his penmanship and spelling skills.  Cameron also helped Blaine out whenever he needed it.  On weekends, he would hang out with Wes, David, Kurt, and Jeff.

Wes checked in on Blaine every day after classes.  He always offered to help the slave boy with any of his homework, but Blaine was determined to do it on his own.

Living at the slave house seemed to really help Blaine.  Since he was surrounded by other slaves, he was able to let some of his guards down, and they were proof that Wes was telling him the truth.  

One night soon after Blaine moved into the slave house, he was attempting to apply a healing cream to the lash marks on his back when Cameron walked into the room.

“Oh, sorry, Blaine, I’ll jus - Whoa!  What happened?” Cameron said, catching sight of the healing scars.

Blaine looked down at his lap, ashamed.  “D-doesn’t your master ever punish you?” Blaine asked.

“What?” Cameron asked, incredulous.  “I mean, sure, occasionally, but not like that.  That’s just - just -”

“It’s nothing,” Blaine said quickly, growing embarrassed at the attention he had received.  He gave up on the cream and instead just roughly pulled his shirt over his head.

“Wait,” Cameron said, “I didn’t mean - it’s just, I’m sorry that had to happen to you.  I mean, I knew you didn’t have it great before, but I didn’t know people like that were around here, you know?”

Blaine nodded slowly.

“Just - you can talk to me some time, okay?  I mean, I know Wes tries to talk to you about this stuff, but it’s different with another slave.  So if you ever need to just talk, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Blaine said, smiling.

“Do you need help with that?”

Blaine looked up, momentarily confused before he realised that Cameron meant the balm.  “Oh!  If you’re okay with that, but I can manage -”

“It’s fine, Blaine.  We slaves watch out for each other.”

Cameron began gently rubbing the balm over Blaine’s back once the younger boy had once again removed his shirt.  He tried not to press too hard on any of the mark, nor did he want to think too hard about the layers of old scars underneath the new marks.

“All done,” he said, trying to smile at Blaine.

“Thanks.”


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt stopped by Wes’ room before leaving Dalton for winter break.  Most boys were already gone because they had to travel much further than just a nearby town, so it was only Kurt and Wes left on their floor.

“What are you doing for break?” Kurt questioned when he saw that Wes was sprawled on his bed and had no bags packed.

“Hanging out here.  David said Blaine could use his bed, so we’ll just bro it up, I guess.  Or, as much as he lets himself have fun…”  Wes trailed off.  Both boys knew that although Blaine had opened up greatly to both of them, they still had a long way to go.

“You aren’t going home at all?”

“I don’t usually.  I mean, I’d stop at home on Christmas to see my mom and Ab, and I always visit my dad, but now with Blaine… I’m not going to bring him back there.”

“Come home with me,” Kurt said, not even thinking before the words left his mouth.

“What?”

“Well, no one should have to spend the holidays alone, and I live so close it’s a crime for you not to enjoy the break at my house.  I doubt my dad or Carole would mind.  We have a guest room and a pull out couch and everything.”

“Kurt, I couldn’t impose on your family - especially when it’s your first Christmas all together.”

“I’ll call my dad and ask him right now.”

Wes sighed.  Kurt really was stubborn.  “What about Blaine?  I don’t think he’s really up to meeting more people just yet.”

“No one has to know he’s a slave.  I’ll just tell them that he’s shy or sick or something so they’ll leave him alone.  I mean, dad’ll have to know, but he can be subtle when it’s necessary.”

Wes looked torn.  “How about we ask Blaine?”

Kurt grinned, knowing he would get his way.

* * *

“Why can’t these kids go to their homes?” Burt asked.

“Remember the friend with the slave I was telling you about before?” Kurt said.  “Wes can’t go home with Blaine, his step-father will be awful.  And he can’t leave Blaine alone here either.”

Burt was silent for a moment.  “Kid, this is asking a lot.  And I don’t mean about food or space or family time or anything.  I mean, that kid, that slave, he’s gonna have a really rough time here.  It’s not as sheltered as at Dalton.”

“Please, dad?”

“You know I wouldn’t say no, Kurt.  But we gotta think about how this is going to work.”

* * *

It took quite a bit of convincing, but finally Wes got Blaine to agree to come to Kurt’s for break (and he only had to threaten Blaine with “I could just order you to come” once).  In the car on the way to Lima, Kurt and Wes explained to Blaine that no one with the exception of Burt knew he was a slave, and he would therefore be expected to act like he was just one of their friends.

Blaine nodded solemnly, and both other boys realised that Blaine was interpreting the charade as an order of sorts.  If it made him feel more comfortable, however, they weren’t going to stop him.  The next two weeks were going to be stressful enough already.

They were barely through the door before Kurt launched himself at his father.  When he finally pulled away, he turned around to introduce his father to his companions.

“Dad, these are my friends, Wes and Blaine.”

Burt smiled and held out his hand to each boy in a warm greeting.  “Nice to meet you kids.  I’ve heard a lot about you from Kurt, and I just want to thank you for making Dalton a good place for him.  God knows he had enough trouble at McKinley.”

“Dad,” Kurt interrupted, face glowing red.

Wes smiled and confidently took Burt’s hand.  “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel, and I just want to thank you for letting us stay in your house.”

“It’s really no bother.  The more the merrier, right?”  Burt then turned to face Blaine, the latter of whom shied away when the larger man’s gaze fell on him.  Adopting a softer tone, Burt spoke again.  “And you must be Blaine.  It’s really great to meet you kid.”

“Thank you, sir,” Blaine said meekly, gaze directed at the floor.  “I’m sorry for having caused so many problems for -”

Burt cut him off quickly.  “It’s no problem at all, kid.  And while you’re here, call me Mr. Hummel or Burt.  None of this ‘sir’ business.  I’m not your owner or your superior or anything like that, alright?  In this house, we’re all equals.”

Kurt couldn’t help but glow with joy, so thankful for how kind and accepting his father was.

“Alright, now Kurt can show you where you’ll be sleeping.  Feel free to take advantage of anything in the house.  Oh, and Kurt - Finn called earlier and said that the glee kids and him are going to Breadstix around 5.  They’d love for you to join them.”

Kurt nodded, and led Wes and Blaine up the stairs.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Blaine had insisted on taking the less comfortable pull out couch in the small upstairs office, but neither Kurt nor Wes tried to fight him on that.  They were going to do whatever they could to make him comfortable.

“Do you guys want to come to Breadstix for dinner with me?” Kurt asked once they were all settled.  “It’s not the best food, but it’s a fun place and all my friends are there.  I’m sure you remember them from sectionals, Wes.”

“What do you think?” Wes asked, turning to Blaine.  “Want to chill out here with Mr. H or go meet Kurt’s crazy friends?”

“They’re not -” Kurt protested, then stopped himself.  “Okay, yes, they’re crazy, but in a very loveable way!”  His joke had the desired effect, and Blaine smiled very faintly.

“Whatever you want, Wes,” he said submissively.

“Blaine, you know you can’t act like a slave this week, right?” Wes reminded.

“I’m sorry, sir!” he immediately apologised.  “I didn’t mean - I forgot!”

“Blaine, Blaine, it’s okay!” Wes soothed.  “I know it’s got to be really confusing right now.  If you need me to be a bit more like your owner when it’s just you, me, and Kurt, that’s okay for now.  I know how stressful and unusual this must be, so we just want you to be comfortable.”

“Is that - do you mind, sir?”

Wes shook his head.  “As long as you don’t call me sir unless you really can’t help it.”

* * *

The three piled back into Kurt’s car and arrived at Breadstix before the New Directions.  They got the large corner booth and pulled another table up to it so it was big enough to accommodate all the New Directions, and then waited patiently.  Blaine sat in between Kurt and Wes, feeling protected by the two boys who he viewed as closer to equals than anyone else in the world.  Unconsciously, he rubbed the spot on his arm where his ID number was tattooed.

“Calm down,” Kurt urged gently.  “They might be a bit loud, but they won’t hurt you or anything.  And they don’t know you’re a slave, so there’s nothing they can do to you.”

Blaine wouldn’t stop rubbing, so Kurt placed a soft hand over Blaine’s.

The door opened with the sound of a bell and a gust of cold wind and in swarmed the New Directions.  A few swiveled their heads around the restaurant for a moment before catching sight of -

“Kurt!” Rachel’s shrill voice rang out across the room.

Kurt squealed and shot out of his seat to greet his friends.  There was a flurry of hugs and voices before they all made their way over to the table.

“Guys,” Kurt said, “these are my friends Wes and Blaine.  They weren’t able to get home for break, so they’re staying with me and Finn.  Wes, Blaine, these are the New Directions.”

Wes began introducing himself to the new teenagers, but Blaine just sank back in his seat.  Knowing that this was as much as he could expect, Kurt just leaned in towards Blaine and began pointing out people.  

“See that tall boy there?  I know he looks intimidating, but he’s just a teddy bear.  That’s Finn, my step-brother.  Next to him is his girlfriend, Rachel.  Then there’s Puck, Lauren, Santana, Sam, Quinn, Brittany, Artie, my absolute best friend, Mercedes, and the disgustingly in love Asian couple is Mike and Tina.”

Now that the full group had arrived, a waitress came over to distribute menus and take drink orders.  Suddenly a hush fell over the table as the teenagers immersed themselves in the menu.  Well, all except one of the teenagers.  Tina was the one who looked up first and noticed.

“Aren’t you going to order anything, Blaine?”

The boy looked thunderstruck, mouth opening and closing but no words fell out.  He looked to Wes for help, but the older boy only sent him a look that almost ordered him to speak for himself.  “I’m - uh - not familiar with the menu,” he finally managed to whisper.

Wes and Kurt understood immediately.  Blaine didn’t know what he was allowed to order, nor could he read the strange Italian food names.  Even if he could, he wouldn’t know what they were.  In hushed tones, the two began explaining the menu to Blaine.

Once the food was ordered, conversation fell over the table once again.  Wes was getting along quite well with Rachel and Mercedes, and Kurt had been drawn into a fashion conversation with Tina.  Kurt looked up when he felt a body shifting at his side and noticed Blaine send a small smile towards Mike, who had just asked him a question.

Kurt was glad that the two quiet boys seemed to have connected in some small way, even if Blaine was curling back into the booth after the small interaction.

When the food was delivered, Blaine looked unsurely around the restaurant.  He’d never eaten in a restaurant before, and when owners in the past had taken him, he’d been instructed to either stand or kneel near the table or wait outside in a designated slave area.  Once Wes had taken his first bite, Blaine decided he was allowed to begin eating, so he cut a small piece of the pasta dish Kurt had recommended.

“May I be excused to the bathroom?” Blaine asked, directing the question to the table at large so it seemed more like table manners than his duty as a slave.

“Yeah, it’s right past the counter,” Kurt replied nonchalantly.  “Do you need someone to show you?”

Blaine shook his head and squeezed out of the booth.

Neither Kurt nor Wes thought any more about Blaine going off on their own until they heard a shout from the back of the restaurant.

* * *

Blaine walked into the bathroom and locked himself in a stall.  It was exhausting to sit around and try to suppress his every instinct.  Sure, at one time this had all been natural to him, but it had been beaten out of him in the last 12 years - literally.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself out and went to the sink.  There was another man in the restroom, but Blaine ignored him in favor of focusing on himself - something he’d been getting better at in the last few weeks at Dalton.

He turned on the faucet and began splashing water on his face.  But when Blaine turned around to get a paper towel and dry off, he found himself in a harsh grip.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the man asked angrily.

Blaine stuttered for a moment before looking down to where the man’s hand was holding his arm - right above the tattoo.  He must have revealed it when he pushed up his sleeves to wash his face and not even realised it.

“You’re not allowed in here!  What makes you think scum like you has the right to use the same facilities as your betters?”

Blaine cowered, trying to get away from the man, but his grip was firm.  He pushed open the door and roughly threw Blaine to the ground where the slave maneuvered himself into a kneeling position in hopes that the man would leave him alone.

“That’s exactly where scum like you belongs!”

* * *

“That’s exactly where scum like you belongs!” came the shout.  Both Kurt and Wes’ heads shot up immediately and they caught eyes.  Only one word ran through either’s mind: Blaine.  Before anyone else around them could even react, both boys were up from their seats and running to the back of the restaurant.

The sight that greeted them stopped Kurt’s heart in his chest.  Cowered on the ground and shivering violently was Blaine.  Above him stood a large and imposing man, red in the face, with his hand raised as if he were readying to strike Blaine.

The resounding smack as his hand made contact with Blaine’s face pulled both boys from their states of frozen shock.

“Hey!” Wes shouted, walking boldly right up to the man.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just showing it it’s proper place,” he sneered.  “Not that it’s really the business of a child.”

“It is the business of ‘a child’ when that’s my property you’re manhandling.  How dare you lay a hand on a slave that isn’t yours!  He isn’t yours to answer to nor is he yours to discipline.  You can bet that you will be hearing from my lawyer!”

The whole restaurant was frozen in shock as Wes threatened the much older man.  Kurt, meanwhile, was crouched next to Blaine, trying to persuade him to uncurl a bit.

After a few more moments of heated discussion between Wes and the man, he huffily stormed away and Wes rounded on a gaping waitress.  “Is someone going to bring me some ice for his face?” he asked harshly, before remembering that he had to calm down for Blaine’s sake.

That seemed to pull everyone out of the moment, and soon conversation slowly resumed.  With the combined efforts of Wes and Kurt, Blaine managed to get up, and they walked him out to Kurt’s car.

“Here,” Kurt said, tossing his keys to Wes.  “My address is programmed into the GPS.  Take him home and ask Carole to make some of her hot chocolate.  It’s the best.  I’ll be back as soon as possible, but I think I need to explain a few things to my friends.”

Sure enough, most of the New Directions were staring out the window at the three Dalton boys.

“I’m sorry for causing a scene, Sir,” Blaine whispered, his first words since the altercation.  “And I apologise for embarrassing you in front of your friends.”

Kurt and Wes immediately began protesting, voices running over each other as they assured Blaine that none of this was his fault.  

Once the two pulled away, Kurt turned back to the restaurant.

* * *

“You know what I was saying back there… I didn’t mean it,” Wes said awkwardly, a few minutes into the ride.

Blaine’s head shot up, a look of fear in his eyes.

“No!  I mean the stuff about you being my slave and my property and mine to discipline, not the stuff about how amazing you are,” Wes quickly corrected.  “I really don’t see you that way, but - that’s how the world works, and that was the only way I could get him away from you.  I’m sorry I said those things, though.”

“It’s fine, sir.  It was all true.”

“Are you back to calling me sir then?” Wes asked.

“I’m sorry - it’s just -”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Wes said, cursing himself again.  How many more times could he mess up in one day?  “You can call me that, but I just wish you didn’t.  I wish you didn’t feel that way, or see me like that.”

“I - I know.  You’re the best owner I’ve ever had… Wes.”

* * *

“Care to explain what just happened?” Santana demanded before Kurt was even settled in his seat at the table.

“Seriously man, you go off to prep school for a couple of months and suddenly you can’t go anywhere without a personal slave?” Puck questioned harshly.

“What?” Kurt exploded.  “No!  God, how can you even think that!  I mean, do you guys really think I’m that shallow?”  Kurt was pleased to see this his friends looked slightly embarrassed at that.  “Blaine’s not … I mean, he is a slave, but he’s not…”  Kurt sighed, trying to figure out where to begin, when he felt a warm hand snaking into his.  He opened his eyes to find Quinn smiling at him.

“It’s a really long story,” he began, “but the most important thing to know is that Wes doesn’t believe in slavery.  But he had to take Blaine from his step-father before he killed him.”

* * *

Burt was surprised to see Kurt’s car pulling back into the driveway so soon, and even more shocked when only two boys departed.  Blaine looked much more withdrawn than before, which certainly was saying something.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, meeting the two boys on the porch.

Wes subtly shook his head, then said, “Kurt told us we had to try Carole’s hot chocolate…?”

Oh. It was that bad then.  “Um, sure, come on in and I’ll tell her to whip up an extra large batch.  Do you two boys want to talk or do you just want to veg out in front of the TV?  That’s what Kurt and Finn usually do when it’s a hot chocolate night.”

“I think we’ll veg out,” Wes said, answering for both of them.  “I’ll go introduce myself to Carole in the kitchen,” and here he made eye contact with Burt to convey that he would explain everything later, “so Blaine, can you pick out something for us to watch?”

The other boy looked petrified, but nodded and shuffled off.

“So what really happened?”

“Some guy at Breadstix found out Blaine is a slave and got pissed that he was using the same facilities.  I had to go all possessive to get the guy away and now - I don’t know.”

Burt nodded.  “You’re just a kid.  You shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of stuff.”

Wes grinned humorlessly.  “I blame my father.  If he wasn’t such a good man, I wouldn’t have to worry about this.”

Burt smiled.  “You’re in a really great position for this, though.  You can help this kid, and maybe make a difference.”

Wes nodded.  “That’s what my dad keeps telling me.  He thinks I should go into politics so I can try to end all this bullshit.”

Burt adopted a thoughtful face.  “You know, that’s not a bad idea.  Now, how about I go find Carole and we make that hot chocolate, okay?”

* * *

When Kurt and Finn returned home, Wes and Blaine were sitting in the living room with steaming mugs of hot chocolate (Blaine’s second and Wes’ fifth - the older boy was fit to burst, but Blaine had refused to take another cup until Wes had proven it was okay).

“Mmm, mom is there any more cocoa?” Finn asked when he smelled the sweet drink, heading straight towards the kitchen.

“Finn Hudson!  You just ate your meal, half of Rachel’s, and half of mine!  How can you fit anything else into your stomach?” Kurt called fondly after his brother.

“Hey, you’re the one who calls me a bottomless pit,” Finn said, a chocolate moustache already adorning his upper lip.

Kurt rolled his eyes at his brother and went to take a seat with Wes and Blaine.  Wes paused the movie they were watching, The Lion King, Kurt noted, and turned to face him.

“Hey, how was the rest of dinner?”

“Oh, you know.  The usual.  Finn was a pig, Rachel complained about everything, and then they decided it was time to serenade the entire restaurant.”  Kurt obviously avoided the topic of what people might have said about Blaine.

“I’m sorry about causing a commotion and embarrassing you,” Blaine said quietly, speaking to his hands which were folded neatly in his lap.  “If you don’t want me here any more, I understand.”

Kurt looked at Blaine like he was insane until the younger boy looked up.  “No way, Blaine.  It’s going to take a lot more than some idiot to scare me away.  Anyway, we already invited you and Wes to stay.  We’re not just going to kick you guys out for christmas.”

Blaine just looked back down to his hands.  “Thank you.  May I go upstairs now?”

“Blaine,” Wes warned, “just because some people know you’re a slave now doesn’t mean you have to act like one, okay?  You can do whatever you want whenever you want - within reason, of course.”

“Sorry,” Blaine said.  He looked around at the two others before slowly getting up and fleeing upstairs.

Once he was seated on the couch in the office, Blaine pulled out the book that Dr. Sheraton had assigned him to read over break.  Like the last one, it was a children’s chapter book, filled with illustrations, large print, and easy vocabulary words.  He also had a few worksheets to complete, and had to work on his penmanship.  Just knowing how much trouble he was causing made a heavy weight drop in Blaine’s stomach.  But he wanted this.  He wanted to be able to read and write more than anything else, so he wasn’t going to let the embarrassment win.

* * *

When Blaine woke the next morning, it took a second for him to remember where he was.  As realisation dawned, he felt a bit of residual shame for the scene he had caused the day before.  Rather than waiting around and letting his nerves get the best of him, however, Blaine sat up, dressed, and walked down to the kitchen.

Burt and Carole were already down there, talking quietly over cups of coffee.  When they noticed the slave standing in the doorway, Carole immediately jumped into action.

“Blaine!  Come in, sit down!  What do you want for breakfast?  I was going to make waffles later when Finn wakes up.  Do you want some?”

“Whatever you have is fine, you don’t have to go out of your way for me,” Blaine replied meekly.

“Nonsense!  I’m sure the other boys will be up soon, so I’ll just have the waffles ready and warming in the oven!”

Blaine nodded meekly and sat down in the seat furthest from either adult.

“So Blaine,” Burt said, setting down his paper and turning to look at the boy.  “Tell me about yourself.”

“Uh -” Blaine began unsurely.  “I’m - um - I’m 16,” he whispered.  Burt simply nodded and indicated that Blaine should continue.  “I don’t know.  What else would you like to know?”

Burt then realised that his question could have been seen as more of an order.  “Anything you feel like sharing, kid.  I want to get to know my son’s friends.”

Blaine blushed as being called Kurt’s friend, but still didn’t say anything.

“Alright, I’ll help you out.  Are you from Ohio originally?”

Blaine nodded, then paused and began to speak.  “My parents died when I was four and my brother and I were both sold.  I’ve never been out of Ohio.”

“Oh, have you been able to keep in contact with him?”

“N-no.”

“Well, how are you enjoying Dalton?” Burt said, changing the subject when he realised how sensitive it was for Blaine.  “I understand you and Kurt both went there for similar reasons.”

Blaine looked at Burt in confusion.  “I’m sorry?” he asked.

“Kurt was getting bullied pretty badly at his old school, on account of him being gay.  So he transferred to Dalton.  I have to say, the kid loves it there - but I’m pretty sure meeting you was the main reason.”

“M-me?” Blaine gasped.

“All those kids at Dalton were raised in these perfectly charmed households - with slaves and stuff.  And then he meets a kid who gets it.  A kid who came from the wrong side of the tracks.  Now I’m not sayin’ that you had it nearly as good as Kurt, but I think you made him more comfortable there.”

An odd warmth flowed through Blaine’s body when he learned that he had helped Kurt.  He had hated the uselessness that being at Dalton had initially made him feel.  After a few moments’ silence, he realised that Mr. Hummel was still waiting for an answer.  “Dalton’s very nice,” he began.  “Better than anywhere I’ve ever been before.”  And suddenly, Blaine felt the floodgates open and he was rambling about how nice Dalton was.  “I mean, the slave house is heated and they feed us the same food as all the owners at the school, and I get my own bed at night!  Plus, they’re teaching  me to read!”  

Blaine looked so proud at the end of his statement that Burt didn’t want to ruin it by getting angry about how such basic things should be provided for everyone, regardless of their status.  Instead, he said, “That’s great, kid.  It sounds like a really nice place.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I've got pre-written, so from now on updates will be much less frequent. Life is picking up, and November will likely be devoted to writing a novel for NaNoWriMo.
> 
> Additionally, I've kinda lost steam and direction with this story. I kind of know where it will eventually go, but there's a lot in the middle that I'm just clueless about. So, if anyone out there wants to help, I'd love you forever. I don't as much need a beta (although, one would be appreciated) - I more need someone to help me figure out the plot. Basically someone that I can talk at and throw all my stupid ideas at until that person says, "Okay, that idea isn't awful." If you're interested, PM me on fanfiction.net - I've got the same name and all the same stories posted, so it should be fairly easy to find me.

Christmas turned out to be an incredibly awkward day.

That was something Kurt hadn’t thought about when he’d invited Wes and Blaine to come home for the holiday break.  But then he remembered just how much of a family affair Christmas was supposed to be - especially with his newly formed family.  How would Wes and Blaine fit into the picture?

Carole, it turned out, had thought of that already.  Because Christmas morning found two small boxes under the tree, one with Wes’ name, and another with Blaine’s.  

After Kurt and Finn had opened most of their gifts, Carole pulled the two for the guests and handed them over.  Wes began thanking her profusely, while Blaine’s eyes just grew wide and he almost started shaking.  When he realised that everyone was watching him closely, he blushed and tried to school his face into a neutral expression.

“Is something wrong, Blaine?” Carole asked.

“This - is this for me?” he whispered.

“Of course it is, honey,” Carole replied.

Blaine weighed the box in his hands, almost trembling with emotion.  He could barely remember the last Christmas he’d actually been able to celebrate.  It was when he was four years old, not too long before the car crash that took his parents’ lives and ended his life as a free person.  He couldn’t remember what his parents or even his brother looked like, but he did remember getting a teddy bear and a disney movie that year.

He looked up again, just to make sure that he was actually allowed to open the gift, before gently pulling back the wrapping paper.  Inside was a book - Harry Potter and the - he couldn’t figure out that word - Sorcerus? What was a sorcerus? - Stone.  It was big.  And the print inside was incredibly small.  He’d never be able to read it.

“That’s how I taught Kurt to read,” Burt explained after a few more moments of silence.  “Once he mastered smaller books, we bought him this.  Every night, for thirty minutes before bed, we’d read it - I’d read one page, and he’d read the next.”

Kurt grinned at the memory.  “I can read it with you if you want,” he offered.  “I mean, I guess once you’ve built up to books this complex.  It’s been ages since I last read any Harry Potter books.”

Blaine smiled and nodded shyly.

* * *

After cleaning up the mess under the tree, Wes left to go to visit his father.  Finn had invited Puck over for video games since Puck didn’t celebrate christmas, so Kurt decided to see what Blaine wanted to do.

“Ordinarily, I go shopping with the girls when Finn insists on playing video games, but all the stores are closed for Christmas.  Do you want to join them?  I’m sure they’d be okay with it.”

Since the dinner at Breadstix, Blaine hadn’t interacted with any of Kurt’s friends.

“I know Puck looks kinda intimidating, but he’s really a big softie once you get to know him.”

“Will - will you be there too?” Blaine asked nervously.

“If you want me.”

“Please.”

And that’s how Kurt and Blaine ended up squished in the living room with Puck, Finn, and way more junk food than any of them could possibly ever eat.

“So, dude, you’re like a slave, right?” Puck asked, casually breaching the topic while brutally shooting computer generated characters on the TV screen.

“Um, yeah,” Blaine replied softly.  Both he and Kurt had died quickly, so now only Finn and Puck were left to complete the mission.

“So Kurt could like totally order you around, right?”

“No!” Kurt responded indignantly.  “First off, Blaine’s my friend, not my slave.  Secondly, I’m not his owner, so even if I wanted to order him around, he wouldn’t have to listen.”

“I would, though,” Blaine whispered.  “If you needed help, I would do what you said.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, turning towards his friend, “if I ever needed your help, I’d ask you, not order you.”

“Whatever,” Puck said, obviously bored by the moment that the two boys had shared.  “What’s it like, dude?  I mean, doesn’t it suck that you have to do whatever people tell you?”

“I’m used to it,” Blaine said, shrugging his shoulders.  Kurt had been surprised by how open Blaine had been with Puck and Finn at first, but now he realised that it was because the boys were so casual with Blaine.  They didn’t try to ignore his enslavement, but they didn’t make a big deal out of it either.

“But, like, how was it when you first started?  Or were you born a slave?”

“Puck!” Kurt protested.  “Blaine doesn’t have to tell you his entire life story.”

“Sorry, I’m just curious,” Puck said defensively.

“It’s fine, Kurt,” Blaine said.  “My brother and I were sold when I was four and he was 14.  And I started out as more of a live-in playmate than an actual slave, so I was kinda eased into it, I guess.”

“That blows.  What happened to your brother?”

“I - I don’t know.  I haven’t seen him since the day of the first auction.”

“You know, Blaine,” Kurt said, an idea forming already, “we could always try to find him.  It’s amazing the sort of things you can find on the internet these days.”

“It’s alright, Kurt.  I wouldn’t even know him anymore.”

Finn and Puck let out loud cheers as they defeated the level, so Kurt shifted his attention.  “Great, now can we please switch to Super Smash Bros?”

“Come on, Kurt, Mass Effect is fun.  Plus, you always kick our asses in Smash.”

“Yeah, well you always kick my ass in everything else.  So it’s only fair!”

Puck, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from him getting his ass kicked in Smash, went back to his previous line of questioning for Blaine.  “So, if I told you to make me a sandwich right now, you’d have to do it?”

Kurt was about to protest, but stopped when he saw the small smile on Blaine’s face.  “Wes told me I wasn’t to follow orders from any of Kurt’s friends.”  A suddenly terrified look crossed his face.  “I’m sorry - !”

“Dude, I was just messing with you,” Puck said, brushing Blaine’s apologies off.  “Now, I don’t know about the rest of you but I could kill for some of Mrs. H’s leftover casserole.  There’s still some in the fridge, right, Kurt?” The pale boy nodded in confirmation, so Puck stood up and stretched his muscles.  “Anyone else want something?  Blaine, Finn?”

* * *

When Wes returned later that evening, he was shocked to find Blaine was laughing with the three other boys.  In a way, he understood.  None of these boys posed any sort of threat to Blaine’s well-being.  Their families weren’t nearly rich enough to own slaves.  They were the closest to equals that Blaine could find in Lima.  But he still felt a pang of jealousy as he realised that he might never be able to connect with Blaine as deeply as these boys had in just a few hours.

“Wes!” Blaine exclaimed, seeing him over the heads of the others.  “How was your father?”

“He’s great, Blaine.  He said he’d like to meet you at some time, if you’re up for it.”

“That - that sounds nice, Wes.”

Wes winced as his name was once again pronounced like it was a title.  “Anyway, I have something else for you.  I called my mom this morning to say hi, and I ended up talking to Ab.  She said she’d love to talk to you if you’re up to it.”

“Really?”  Blaine’s eyes lit up as he thought of the kind older slave who had helped him as much as possible in the short time he’d stayed with Wes’ mother and step-father.  “I’d like that very much, Wes.”

“Great, let me just call the house.  I’ll have to make up some bullshit for mom to pass the phone on, but it shouldn’t be too hard - Oh!  Hi mom!”  Wes paused and listened for a moment.  “No, mom, there is absolutely no chance I’m going home when he insists on treating Ab and Barry like that!”  Another pause.  “No, mom.  I’m actually at my friend’s house right now.  His family was kind enough to invite both Blaine and I in as guests and I wanted to do something nice for them, so can you get me Ab?”  More muffled talking from the other end of the line.  “I just want her recipe for the pumpkin spice pie so I can thank Kurt’s family for letting us stay and treating us both so well.”

The whole time, Wes never let an opportunity to rub the Hummel-Hudson family’s kindness into his mother’s face.  Those listening in to the conversation shifted uncomfortably at having to overhear an awkward and potentially private moment, but they didn’t acknowledge the situation.

Finally, a smile broke out on Wes’ face.  “Hello again, Ab!  Yeah, I’ve got Blaine right here, so I’ll just pass him the phone.”

Wes handed over the phone and whispered to Blaine, “You can take it into another room if you want to talk in private.”

Blaine nodded, took the phone, and walked away.

“That’s so nice of you to do that for him, Wes,” Kurt said once Blaine was out of earshot.

“I just feel bad that I had to leave Ab there,” Wes said, sinking down on the couch.

“Yeah, but I’m sure she understands why you did what you did.”

“Sure, but I’d only talked to Blaine for all of ten seconds when I took him.  I’ve know Ab all my life.”

“Wes, I highly doubt that she would harbor any resentment.  From what I understand she isn’t treated too horribly there, whereas Blaine … well, you made it sound like he wouldn’t survive the weekend,” Kurt pointed out, trying to comfort his friend.  It was strange seeing this weakness in Wes.  He was usually so strong for Blaine.  But, Kurt guessed, he had to let his emotions out sometime.

“Yeah,” Wes said, “you’re right.”  But he didn’t sound totally convinced.

* * *

New Years Eve found many of the New Directions crowded into the Hummel-Hudson basement.  Kurt, Blaine, Wes, and Quinn had decided to take refuge upstairs where it was quieter and not as stuffy.  At first, Kurt had been surprised that Quinn had chosen to leave her friends, but then he remembered the warm hand in his at Breadstix and that Quinn was the only of his friends at McKinley who actually had any experience with slaves.

Wes and Quinn ended up in one corner of the room, talking in hushed voices.  Although Kurt was sure they had plenty to talk about between the two of them, he was sure the conversation centered around slavery.

Meanwhile, Kurt and Blaine were seated on the couch, mindlessly watching the New Years broadcast.  For the past few minutes, Blaine’s face had been scrunching into a very concentrated look until he finally turned and looked at Kurt.

“Can I ask you something?” he said tentatively, and quietly enough that there was no chance anyone else would hear.

“Blaine, you know you don’t need permission to ask me -”

“No, I mean, something - personal, I guess?”

“Oh,” Kurt said, pleasantly surprised.  “Of course, Blaine.  I really do want to get to know you better, and talking is the easiest way for that to happen.”

Blaine looked down at his hands which he was wringing in his lap.  “It’s just - the people at Dalton are all like Wes.  They’re very rich.  And, I’m not saying your house isn’t nice because it is, but it’s not really the kind of house that I’d expect someone who could afford a slave or Dalton to live in.  And you even said that you’re not from the same world as the other boys at Dalton.”

Kurt nodded along with Blaine’s statement.  When the slave paused, Kurt spoke softly.  “I didn’t hear a question in there, Blaine.”

Blaine blushed.  “Your - your father - he told me that you were bullied because you’re gay.  Just - can you - can you tell me about that?”

“Well,” Kurt said slowly, trying to figure out what to tell Blaine.  The boy still hadn’t asked much of a question, but Kurt was pretty sure that he knew what Blaine wanted to know.  “You’re right about that - my family definitely isn’t part of the upper-class.  But Dalton isn’t just a fancy prep school - it’s also a very welcoming community that rallies around their own.  A few months back, I went to spy on Dalton’s glee club.  Wes and David figured me out pretty quick, but they just talked to me.  They didn’t get mad that I was spying or anything like that.  Then they told me that Dalton has a no-bullying policy.  I looked it up online and talked to them a few more times before applying to the school.  Once I showed them my grades from McKinley, a few writing samples, and wrote an amazing application, if I do say so myself, I was accepted and given a full scholarship.”

“But - did you really transfer because they were hurting you at your old school?” Blaine asked, a bit of fear in his eyes.

“Blaine, I’m going to tell you something right now, and it might sound like I’m trying to trivialize your situation, but I promise that I’m not.  Basically, it doesn’t matter if you’re a slave or free; if you’re different, people will hate you.  Obviously, your ‘difference’ is very different than mine, and because of your position, people could do a lot worse, but -”

“It’s not,” Blaine whispered, and then looked shocked that the words had even fallen from his lips.

“Sorry?”

“I just - I mean - can you please continue?  I can’t right now.”

“Of course,” Kurt said, laying a comforting hand on the slave’s knee.  “Anyway, I was the only out gay kid at McKinley, and on top of that, my voice sounds like a girl’s, I dress incredibly flamboyantly, and I was a member of the most hated organisation there, the glee club.  So I was a really easy target.  I could barely get through one day without slurs being thrown at my face, or being slammed into lockers or thrown into dumpsters.  It was awful.  And when one of my tormentors turned out to be a closeted homophobe who forced himself on me, I knew I couldn’t safely stay there any longer.”

“He - what?” Blaine gasped.

“You know, I’ve never told anyone that before,” Kurt admitted.  “It just - it made me feel too powerless.  But then I saw you.  You had everything taken away from you, and yet you were still so strong and trying so hard.  And I knew that I wanted to help you just as much as Wes and Dalton helped me.  Because I saw that spark in your eyes the first day we met, and I knew that you might have been beaten, like me, but neither of us was going to break.”

Both boys sat in stunned silence for a long time.

* * *

“That’s exactly how it used to be,” Wes said, after listening to Quinn talk about her family’s house slave.  “Before my dad got arrested, Ab was just like another member of the family.  I mean, sure, she did most of the chores, but mom would help her out.  And now, it’s just all - shit.”

Quinn smiled sadly and took one of Wes’ hands in hers.  “You do know that nine out of ten - no, 19 out of 20 - slave owners are like my parents and  you and your dad, and not like your step-father, though, right?”

Wes nodded.

“I know it’s awful, and I can’t imagine how much it hurts to watch her go through all that,” Quinn said, “but it’s not as bleak as you make it seem.  There has been so much advancement in slave rights in the past 20 years alone.  I mean, Kurt was even saying that the slaves at Dalton are tutored.  That’s huge!”

Wes cracked a grin.  “Yeah,” he said softly, gaze drifting over to where Kurt and Blaine were seated on the couch.  Over the past hour, they’d shifted closer and closer together, until now they were practically on top of each other.

Quinn followed the boy’s gaze and let out a soft chuckle.  “Oh, Kurt’s got it bad,” she said, grinning.

“What?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t see it,” Quinn said, gesturing to the two boys again.  “I don’t know about Blaine, but that is 100% Kurt’s ‘I’m in love with you’ face.”

Wes’ eyes widened comically as he did a double-take.

“Don’t worry,” Quinn consoled.  “He’s not going to do anything to make Blaine uncomfortable.  He learned that the hard way last year.  Plus, this seems a lot deeper than some schoolboy crush.”

* * *

Midnight came, and with it, several kisses.  Wes and Quinn ended up sharing a soft, chaste kiss before turning away with bright blushes blooming.  

Kurt leaned over the relaxed features of the boy that was currently snoozing in his lap.  “Sweet dreams, Blaine,” he whispered, before lightly kissing the boy’s temple.


	11. Chapter 11

a/n: I want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this even when I took a break.  Extra thanks go out to WaveFire, Ionaadsila, and hma1010 (all from FF.net) who were integral in helping me find inspiration again and gave me so many ideas for what will be happening in the next few chapters.  Updates will still be infrequent from now on, and I can’t promise that I won’t take another break, but I will finish this.  Until then, keep the reviews coming and always let me know if there’s anything that you want to see happen here!

* * *

 

After their talk on New Years, Blaine barely spoke to Kurt.  It had seemed like they had made so much progress in their relationship, but now he was hiding behind Wes again.  It was almost a relief when the three boys headed back to Dalton when school started up again.

Kurt was suddenly distracted by the upcoming midterm exams.  Dalton teachers put a lot more pressure on their students than McKinley teachers did, so he barely left his room except to eat and go to lessons.

Blaine was also buckling down much more on his work.  He spent most of his time reading, much more than Dr. Sheraton had assigned.  The woman had even managed to bring in a large supply of books for him so he didn’t have to reread the same ones over and over.  It was a little humiliating when he figured out that some of them were from Dalton’s book drive for the children of Westerville, but he ignored that to focus on his pride each time he finished a new book.

He felt a little guilty, too, for how awkward he’d been around Kurt.  Kurt, who had always treated Blaine like an equal and never spoke down to him or tried to simplify things for his sake.  Kurt, who had been kind enough to welcome him into his home and introduce him to his friends and celebrate Christmas with him.  Kurt, who had told him his deepest secret.

But when Blaine had almost revealed his deepest secret, he’d chickened out.

The truth was, it was still mostly buried inside of Blaine.  He didn’t even know the whole truth.  For so many years, Blaine had only been able to focus on work.  He worked to please his masters, to survive, to not give up.  And so he’d never been able to think about other things, things that most normal kids took for granted - like playing on sports teams or going on dates.  And that was Blaine’s deepest secret.

He knew what it meant to be gay.  He knew that it was looked down upon, almost as bad as being a slave.  He knew that no girl had ever held his interest before, but he’d never had time to even give a girl a second look.  It wasn’t until he met Kurt - captivating, kind, wonderful, Kurt - that he even considered that girls might not hold his interest.

“Cameron?” Blaine asked tentatively after lessons one day.

“Yeah man?”  The other slave was distracted by the complicated math problems in front of him.

“I - uh - never mind,” Blaine trailed off.

Cameron sat up, suddenly much more alert.  He’d developed quite a soft spot for Blaine in the few weeks that he’d been living at Dalton.  The boy was so obviously hurt and damaged - but not broken yet.  And he was so sweet and endearing.  He was a bit like the little brother that Cameron never had.  It killed him every time he caught a glimpse of the scars that marred almost every inch of Blaine’s body, or when Blaine would beat himself up over not being able to spell a word correctly.

“Wait, Blaine, what’s up,” he said quickly, stopping Blaine before he could leave the room.

Blaine studied his shoes deeply for a minute, memorizing the patterns that were still new to him, wriggling his toes around and relishing the warmth and support of an actual pair of shoes to protect his feet.

“Have you ever, you know, like - um - like, wi-with a girl?” Blaine stuttered out so quietly Cameron almost missed it.

If it had been any other situation, Cameron would have laughed.  But he knew that would scare Blaine away, so instead, he smiled gently.  “Kinda,” he said with a grin.  “Want to head to the bedroom?  It should be empty now, so we can talk more freely.”

Blaine smiled and nodded his head gratefully as he followed his friend towards their room.

“So what’s this really all about?” Cameron asked kindly once he was sitting across from Blaine at their beds.

Blaine shrugged, but it didn’t look like he was willing to speak just yet, so Cameron decided to share as much as he could.

“Brian’s family belongs to this country club, so we spend most of the summers there.  Generally, the masters there kinda just let their slaves go.  I mean, some of them are stricter, but especially with the kids, they don’t want someone tagging along all day.  So there’s this smaller pool there where slaves are allowed to swim.”

Blaine was nodding along, his eyes wide with awe as he imagined what Cameron was describing.

Here Cameron grinned as he continued his story.  “There was this one girl, a slave, obviously, who was seriously smoking.  I mean, she didn’t even need make-up or fancy shit in her hair.  So we spent a lot of time together last summer.”

“And - and your master - he let you?” Blaine asked nervously.

“Of course,” Cameron said.  He no longer felt guilty when saying these things, instead he repeated them often to remind Blaine that Wes was different.

There was a long silence after that, stretching over a few minutes.  Cameron wasn’t sure if he should break it and add more details, or ask Blaine what was going on, or if he should just wait for Blaine to speak.  Finally, Blaine made the decision for him.

“I just - I don’t know.  If I do,” Blaine said quietly, cryptically.

“You’re going to have to give me more than that, Blaine, if you want my help.”

Blaine gulped and spoke again.  “I never - never had time, you know?  To think about that or anything.  I was - I was too tired and s-scared.  But I just don’t know.  I mean, I always assumed I did, but I don’t think so, and now I’m scared again.”

“What, Blaine?” Cameron probed softly.

“I don’t know if … if I like girls.”

“Oh,” Cameron said.  “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.  Why not?”

“Well, how do you know that you like girls and not boys?”

Cameron almost laughed at that.  “Well, for one thing, boobs.  I guess that’s two, huh.  Anyway, it’s just something you know, I guess.  Like if you feel yourself drawn to a person, you like the person, you know?”

Blaine nodded slowly.  “Isn’t there some way to just know?”

“I think you already do, Blaine,” Cameron said softly.  “You just need to start thinking about yourself a bit more and you’ll figure it out.”


End file.
